Show, Not Tell
by aryaelvinsword
Summary: She's always been unconcerned with romance, unfamiliar with whispered sweet nothings and roses left on doorsteps. She's forward and unabashed when alone with him, words seldom spoken but always understood. She prefers to show, not tell, her love to him, in all the ways she does. [DxZ drabbles and shots. High T Rating] [Holy crap I updated!]
1. Show, Not Tell

He loves her completely. And he loves her most when they're alone.

She's not exactly different when alone with him. She's always been unconcerned with romance, unfamiliar with whispered sweet nothings and roses left on doorsteps. She's forward and unabashed when alone with him, words seldom spoken but always understood. She prefers to show, not tell, her love to him, in all the ways she does.

He's found that he prefers it that way.

It's the slight pressure against his arm as she leans into him while they receive mission orders. Or the ghost of a touch on the back of his hand as they pass in a hall. Other times it's her silently slipping into his window at night, curling up beside him in bed only to disappear come dawn, or when she beckons for him to follow her to the roof to show him the sparkling expanse of the night sky in the dead of darkness.

An upgraded holotome with jailbroken settings is her version of a rose left on the bedside, handmade gadgets and tinkered, half finished electronics scattered like velvet petals of circuitry and wire around it. A sparring round where she forgoes dancing just out of his reach and lets him catch her, lets him get her in a hold so they're face to face and panting with unbridled energy, is her version of a kiss with a fist.

Then there's the more intimate way she shows her love.

He's never had a partner like her. The wild, near feral undercurrent that hums through her flesh is in its own league entirely. He can feel it pulsing through her and through him as she digs her nails into his shoulders, sees it burning through her skin in the flush that creeps into her cheeks.

Part of him wonders if it's something she's picked up from her time in the streets. Wonders if everyone who runs that gauntlet of misery and survival and trauma and triumph comes out on the other side with the same wild energy that thrums barely contained beneath her tawny skin.

He wonders if she was born with it, grew alongside it in the seedy back alleyways and bitter winters of Rotterdam, tempered and honed it with the blood and bones of those she was ordered to kill.

The other part of him doesn't care. The energy is so subtle and subdued while in the presence of others that he longs for it, aches for it to be unleashed on him as the days drag on until they are finally, _finally_ alone again.

And when alone with him, sometimes, if it is _just_ so, she lets it loose. It consumes _everything_ , a fire unrivaled until met by his own. Together they watch the world around them burn away, uncaring until there's nothing left for the flames to devour but their own beings and they relish in the heat lapping at their skin as he burns her and she burns him. They rest in the ashes as the world fades back in around them and wait for the embers to grow again.

He remembers the first time they joined in the adrenaline rush after a mission together. He couldn't help himself when she slipped into his hotel room behind him. He didn't say anything and she didn't have to. Her eyes held the same hungry light as his, her body still tense and coiled, waiting for another fight.

The sounds she made when he touched her were intoxicating. Every gasp and hitched breath, every muffled cry and incoherently hissed word dug addictive claws into his very soul. She tugged at his hair and nipped his skin, begged him to sink his teeth in where her neck met her shoulders. When he complied she cried out against him, whimpering as she came down from a high he had yet to understand but wanted to with every fiber of his self.

He loved the way she shivered when he growled against her throat, the way her hands scrabbled for an anchor to reality on his chest when he swiped his tongue across the white stripe, satin scar embedded there. He learned that he too had a beast inside of him when she carved her feral song into his flesh with her teeth, leaving crescent indentations that mirrored her namesake hanging outside the shuttered windows.

They gave and took in equal measure. They traced soft, silky scars and open battle wounds with sinful lips. They made new marks in fevered skin that flared red in the night, untamed powers trailing at their fingertips as they gave in to their inner savagery. There was no sweet romance, no roses or gentle caresses as they joined. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of being together, the heat and the power and the unparalleled rush as worlds collided and the entire universe was theirs and theirs alone.

But he knew he loved her.

He knew she loved him too.

When it was all over he knew she loved him when she pushed her face into the crook of his neck, wrapping her arms around his heaving chest. She pressed her lips, lips that had only moments before dripped with fragments of whirlwind, incoherent sentences for him and him alone, against his throat and measured his pulse.

They lay in silence for what seemed an eternity.

And then, she murmured something against his flushed skin.

"If you ever tell _anyone_ that I can even remotely sound like any of what you just heard, I'll reconsider killing you."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. She nuzzled closer to him.

They were definitely, completely and totally, in love.


	2. Duly Noted, pt 1

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Apologies for this one. It's been stuck in my head for ages and is rather sloppily written. A few head cannons are present but not explored in depth. I think I switched tenses at some point and tried to fix it but may have missed some._

 _Takes place directly after the defeat of the Betrayer. I'll admit that I haven't actually watched season 2 start to finish in a way that gave me much information on what was going on. The flash animation put me off a bit, so apologies if I have information wrong. Cheers mates.)_

 _(Second A/N at bottom)_

Weighted down with both injuries and injured, the team was slow to pick their way across the battlefield. The massive Foundation plane clearly marked as the mobile medical unit had been landed at the very edge of the warzone, as far from the Betrayer as possible to avoid losing their only source of emergency supply.

Den and Harrison were talking in hushed, strained voices, heads nearly touching as one twin supported the other. Lok and Sophie were battered and bruised, with Lok nursing a cracked wrist and relying heavily on the Casterwill Heiress's help to step over the unconscious bodies of Spirals that still littered the ground.

And leading the weary group was, of course, Dante. Zhalia had a fistful of his shirt at the back of his closest shoulder clamped in a deathgrip, limping heavily despite his arm around her own shoulders. Taking on the Betrayer and Demigorgan alone hadn't been exactly the most well thought out plan, and the ex-spy had paid for it. A steady, hissed stream of curses slipped from between her teeth every few steps, followed by snapped refusals to her partner's offer to carry her.

Despite literally dying not half an hour ago, Dante was left with only minor scuffs and bruises. He felt like a new man, a fresh blank slate or a recently kindled fire. There were some aches and a heavy blanket of exhaustion hovered just at the edge of his currently anxiety fueled mind. Rest could wait until he was sure his team, especially the woman currently using her native tongue to call the Betrayer a rather foul term for someone who enjoys the intimate company of sheep, were all safe and being treated in the med unit.

It was a long trek, and by the time the group reached the ramp at the base of the plane there were two people waiting for their arrival. One of them was expected. The other…not so much.

"Well done, everyone." Metz, already sporting a bandage around his head, beamed. It was beyond a relief to see his adopted son alive and well, not to mention the survival of his entire team. Not only that, but seeing that Den's brother was present, despite him looking uneasy and nervous to be so near to the head of the Foundation, was heartwarming to say the least. "We can go over everything that happened later, but right now I can see that many of you need–"

"What's _he_ doing here?" Lok dumbly looked to Sophie at her sharp question, his foggy brain too addled to comprehend that _she_ was the one to interrupt Metz and not exactly sure why. The eyes of the rest of the team were drawn to who the Casterwill was pointing at.

"For your informazion, girl, I'fe been releazed to vork on zee medical staff. They required someone vith a surgical degree." Klaus shifted, folding his skeletal hands on the jet black cane in front of him. He seemed completely unfazed by the interruption, as casual as a possibly living, walking mummy could be.

The wizened scientist's gaze was solidly on Zhalia, who lifted her chin slightly. "This true, Metz?" Metz nodded in confirmation. "Good choice. He's surprisingly better at putting people together than taking them apart." She added something else in Czech, and Klaus visibly relaxed, responding in kind. They both smirked, something that sent a subconscious shudder through the Foundation team.

There was a mildly uncomfortable moment of silence as they stood off, not really knowing how to respond to the development of one of their former enemies being the one that would be helping to reset their broken bones and stitching up their wounds.

It was broken when Zhalia gestured to Klaus's cane with her free hand and asked, "Can I borrow that?" At the raised eyebrow she gave him a terse explanation once again in Czech, jerking her head in Dante's direction.

Klaus's eyes lit up, and Sophie instinctively pulled Lok back a step at the sight. Den and Harrison saw her movement and shuffled backwards as well, not knowing why but knowing that the man is giving off all sorts of unpleasant feelings. "By all means, my dear. Please."

"Thanks." Zhalia let go of Dante's shoulder and shrugged his arm off, accepting the cane.

And then promptly whipped around and whacked the Foundation's number one Seeker in the gut with it.

"Y _ou! Fucking! Asshole!_ " Dante flinched at each strike, totally shocked and dumbfounded at his partners actions as Zhalia rained down a blow with each word that left her lips. " _Fucking! Pulling! That! Fucking! Stunt! I! Went! Fucking! Mental! Don't! Ever! Do! That! Again!_ " A stream of further profanities followed as Zhalia continued to whack the man about the back and shoulders until Klaus seized the cane in an impressive show of strength and yanked it from her grasp.

"You vill puncture a lung if you keep this up." Zhalia shot him a dark glare but didn't answer, slipping past Metz to limp up the ramp and into the belly of the plane.

There was silence again as Lok and Sophie, mildly amused but still concerned, moved to help the bewildered and now much more bruised Dante up.

Harrison was the one to break it this time, nervously voicing his opinion on the situation. "I think she's pissed at you."

"I hadn't noticed." Dante wheezed. "Duly noted."

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _I understand this is fairly OoC and needs more resolution than this. I've got a second part roughly plotted that explains a bit more, but please note that some of this is just me having some fun and inserting some humor and head cannon into this fandom.)_


	3. Games, pt 1

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Part two of 'Duly Noted' is still being hashed out. After talking about Zhalia not being interested in romance it's difficult to gauge how she would explain to Dante why exactly she tried to beat him up without sounding gooey and vulnerable…which will have to happen but I'm not much a fan of the way Zhalia shows vulnerability in the actual canon. Ah well._

 _In the meantime I'm writing various drabbles of general life of the team, with a focus on Zhalia and Dante. After rewatching season one I've noticed that Dante actually doesn't talk all that much compared to everyone else. But I digress._

 _Please enjoy the Fears Twins and Lok getting Zhalia to play Metal Gear V: The Phantom Pain. This game will appear more than once in these drabbles, because who wouldn't love the world's best spy and assassin learning to play as the world's best fictional spy and assassin.)_

* * *

"You need to go left. No, left!"

"Why the hell would I go left? That's a blind corner."

"There's a spot you can clim–WAIT, NO, DON'T _KILL_ HIM!"

"What the fuck else was I going to do?! He saw my face! There isn't a bribe option in this, so he's gotta die!"

" **!** "

A trio of soviet soldiers had rounded corner of the dusty alley that was projected on Dante's media room wall. Venom Snake, currently controlled by the _real_ espionage agent in the room, tried to creep away from the body of their comrade before they noticed, but was too slow. Bullets filled the small space and despite a frantic dive to the ground to avoid getting hit, Snake took two shotgun blasts shortly thereafter and died in the afghan sand.

Lok groaned and covered his face with his hands while Den snickered to his adopted sister, "Zee, it's a stealth game. You can't be stealthy if you leave bodies around."

Zhalia scowled, selecting the option to redeploy with a new loadout of nonlethal weapons without acknowledging that Lok had given her the advice. "Den, I am the living incarnation of stealth. Don't make me prove it to you. Your room is ten feet down the hall from mine." She sat up from where she had been leaning comfortably against Dante's side and braced her elbows on her knees.

"Zhalia doesn't leave bodies, Den." Harrison smirked from where his bony, angular frame was draped across an armchair. "She's a pro. Not like this guy." He pointed at the currently shirtless Snake crawling along the gully next to Da Ghwandi Kar.

" _Thank you_ , Harrison." The spy shifted closer to Dante and pulled her legs up onto the couch. "I promise I didn't kill anyone in front of him." She muttered quietly to her boyfriend, still refusing to take her eyes from the game.

"I believe you." Dante grinned. He was enjoying the lazy afternoon after a long week of searching for a Titan in the same desert sands that Zhalia was exploring in the game world. Despite having to also spend the afternoon with the teens, he was pleased that he could spend some time with his girlfriend as well.

Dante had seen Zhalia use only some of her more common espionage tactics before. Disguises, lying, blackmail…the occasional chokehold or nerve tweaking to get some information. But he had never actually _seen_ her using stealth. That was the point, after all.

But now he was getting a chance to watch her work her magic on a big screen. Well…at least watch her _attempt_ to translate her real world skills into a digital mockery of them.

To be honest it was a little hilarious.

Lok gestured to the screen. "Be careful up there. They started–"

"There's a reason I started ditching that earpiece. Shut up."

Den and Lok exchanged looks but merely shrugged and let Zhalia continue to play unaided.

…

"What's that red–WHO THE HELL PUTS MINES ABOVE GROUND?!"

Another tripped mine and two alerts later, Zhalia was finally good enough at this particular type of sneaking to slip up close behind a guard. Instead of using the tranquilizer pistol, she tapped the unarmed trigger five times in rapid succession as she had heard Den and Harrison do millions of times before while they played the game at her apartment.

In response to the command, Venom Snake suddenly stood on the screen and performed an impressive mix of sped up and slow motion punches, spinning the Soviet soldier around and landing five hits before the unconscious body crumpled to a heap on the dusty ground.

To Dante's surprise, Zhalia sat bolt upright at this and hit the pause button on the game. "You okay?" He asked sitting up straight as well. This was not usual.

Zhalia cleared her throat. There was a slight blush creeping up her neck. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

Everyone started slightly as a new voice piped up from the doorway. Sophie stood there, Cherit on her shoulder, both returned from studying whatever Casterwill manuscripts they could find at the local safehouse library.

"That was…" The Heiress trailed off, eyes also glued to the screen with the same expression that Zhalia had.

"Really fucking hot." Zhalia finished for her, taking a moment to push her dark hair from her face in what appeared to be shock. "Hooollyy _shit_."

Dante's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. The twins and Lok all shared bewildered gazes, and then dissolved into fits of hysterical laughter. Cherit joined them, gliding from his current perch and nearly colliding with the windowsill.

For her part, however, Sophie pinched the bridge of her nose. "That is _not_ what I was going to say." Lok tried to sputter out a retort through his laughter about her face being bright scarlet, but was silenced by a sharp, "If you value me as your girlfriend you'll shut up, Lok Lambert!"

All of this was merely background noise to the two adults on the couch. Zhalia had already picked up the controller again and was directing Snake towards the deeper areas of the hillside outpost. Dante just stared at her, completely and utterly captivated, until she shifted over and leaned against him again.

At this point all three of the boys were arguing and laughing with and at Sophie, Cherit attempting to play referee in the spat. None of them heard Dante whisper into his girlfriend's ear a quiet boast.

"You know…I can do that too."

Zhalia smiled, and it took the Foundation's Finest's breath away. This wasn't her usual smirk, or even her rare soft smile that she would occasionally give him on particularly good mornings. This was a predatory, wolf-like smile of sharp teeth and feral promises. "Oh really, hot stuff?" She turned to him, a gleam in her eye as she came to be near nose to nose with her partner.

"Really." He rumbled, feeling his heart quicken at the charge of feral energy that had begun to dance unnoticed across Zhalia's skin.

"…I'll give you a hundred Euros and the wildest three nights of your fucking life if you do that to Grier the next time I'm watching you two spar."

Seeing the teen still distracted, Dante quickly stole a kiss from the ex-spy, grinning at the little growl it drew from her. "You have a deal."

On the screen, Snake sank a knife into the throat of the enemy he had pinned. The alarms went off again.

No one really cared.


	4. Teachable Moments, pt 1

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _I know, I know. I should be figuring out part 2 of Duly Noted. But head canon of Zhalia picking up a lot of science and being really good at it from her time living in a literal mad scientist lair is one of my favorites. Biology, chemistry, biotech, regular tech, hacking, ect. Reading medical journals disguised as magazines, trying to map out the Seeker genome to figure out how some people are genetically predisposed to being able to use Seeker magic and taking apart the TV because 'Need it, world depends on it, look I made you guys a toy car you can drive with your brain, stop looking at me like that' or some such. Just little hobbies, ya know?_

 _Plus, Dante having the nagging fear that Zhalia will put another bomb in either his closet or her own is personally a favorite funny head canon for me. So please enjoy!_

 _PS…prepare for some science. Don't try any of this at home. This particular info came from my very strange chem professor back in high school who relayed it to us through an anecdote where everything did NOT go as planned and as such should not be taken for fact or reliable. He showed us the burns to prove it.)_

* * *

Wednesdays were early days for Den and Harrison's level at the Venice Academy. Usually they would walk home with Zhalia, drop off their bags and pop over to Dante's for lunch before getting started on their homework with Cherit until Lok and Sophie got back. Once homework was finished it was Seeker training and fun until dinner.

Not today though.

Because on Tuesday, a particular blue haired guardian got a phone call about a particular set of fraternal twins having bad chemistry grades.

So instead of eating some of Dante's famous sandwiches and looking forward to learning how to use a combined Touchram from Zhalia and the Foundation's Finest, they were at Zhalia's apartment.

Doing stoichiometry.

"This sucks." Harrison muttered to his brother from the side of his mouth. "She's taking this too seriously."

Den glanced over. "She's got us under guard, man. Of course she's taking it too seriously."

Both brothers jumped in their seats when Gareon, in his non-powerbonded form, leapt from where he was coiled up on the table between them and let out a hair-raising hiss.

Zhalia's voice rang from deeper within the apartment. " _If it's not related to chemistry, shut up!_ "

In a sudden explosion of movement Den shot up from his chair and threw his pencil up along with his hands. "Oh come on! Zhalia, we aren't ever going to use this stuff! We're _Seekers!_ Chemistry is for the regular kids who have to go to regular jobs like being a pharmacist or an engineer or a college dropout!"

In a flash Zhalia was at the table, arms crossed and an annoyed frown on her face. "Seriously?"

Harrison shrugged. "I mean, he's got a point, Zee. We're going to be using stuff like history and anthropology more than chem. We don't really _need_ to understand stoichiometry."

"I use stoich every other week." Pushing past the boys, Zhalia began gathering up their papers and shoving them into their bags. Gareon croaked and disappeared into his amulet, casting green light around the little room. "Grab your stuff. We're going to Dante's."

Den pumped his fist in the air, snatching up his backpack. "Yes! Real food! No more stupid chemistry!"

"I never said you were getting out of learning chemistry." Zhalia snapped as she slipped on her jacket and handed Harrison his bag.

"Then what are we doing?" Harrison asked warily. From his time working with Zhalia in the Blood Spiral, he knew that she had some… _different_ teaching methods when it came to certain things.

Zhalia paused at the door to kick one of the panels that lined the wall. It slid aside with a faint hiss to reveal a large rolling metal suitcase with multiple latches and locks. "I'm going to show you how _I_ learned chemistry." The twins shared mildly alarmed glances as their guardian grabbed the case and stepped outside.

Then Harrison shrugged and said, "At least it won't be boring."

"…Yeah, and Dante's house has cookies. Win-win, I guess."

"Hurry _up!_ "

* * *

"Hey, guys!" Lok waved cheerily at the figures in the courtyard. "I thought you were doing chemistry!"

"And what exactly…are you doing now?" Sophie asked hesitantly. Who wouldn't be a little trepidatious at the scene before them?

The three street kids– well, at this point you could count Zhalia as a kid considering the giddy excitement displayed only by the wild smirk on her face– looked up in unison. Crouched around an empty beaker that rested on a tripod above a hovering Boltflare, they looked almost tribal. Adding to effect were their goggles, which had red tinted secondary lenses swung out to the side to reveal the inner clear primary lens like the glass feathers of some strange bird.

"We're still doing chemistry."

"None of your business. Don't ask questions, Princess."

"Whatever it is, it's getting me out of homework."

Lok and Sophie exchanged glances.

"Well…okay then." Sophie edged away from the trio. "If you need us we'll be inside…working."

Zhalia sat back on her heels and reached into the metal case that lay open behind her. "Yeah, yeah. Scram, you two. This is _straatkind_ business."

Only once the two teens had disappeared into Dante's house did Zhalia start pulling reagents from the box. "Okay, just between the three of us, Dante isn't exactly keen on me doing this kind of thing. So this is our little secret, yeah?"

"Are we making a bomb?" Den asked bluntly.

"No. We're making _part_ of a bomb." The elder twin's shoulders slumped, apparently in disappointment. "But only because this is how I learned stoichiometry. I'm supposed to stop doing this kind of stuff, part of the whole 'let's be good guys now' thing."

Harrison frowned. "Who would teach you stoich by making bomb parts?"

"Long story. He was a mad scientist. And now I teach this way, apparently." Zhalia shrugged and set her two reagents down. "Okay, get your paper out. This here is sodium-free salt. What's table salt usually made of, elements wise?"

Den looked up from his notes. "Sodium and chlorine?"

"Yeah, that's right. Plus a little added iodine so we get a proper source of that but that's not the point. Anyway, this is sodium _free_. Instead of NaCl, sodium free salt is made of _Potassium_ Chloride."

Zhalia hefted the bottle and set it beside the Seeker fueled Bunsen burner set up. "Harrison, what's the molar mass for Potassium Chloride?" After a little searching on his periodic table and a quick check of his calculator the thin boy arrived at 74.55 grams per mole. "Good! Write that down. Both of you.

"So with our potassium source all figured out all we need now is a source of nitrates." She lifted the second jar. "Which leads us to our little friend ammonium nitrate solution. Get the molar mass for this guy. You're going to have to use your table of common ions. Alright, nice." She set it down beside the other jar. "Now for the stoich."

Den groaned. "I _knew_ you were going to make us do the math."

"Oh, shut up. I'm teaching you better than Klaus did. He'd make me test the ones I practiced on." Zhalia took off her jacket and tied back her hair. "So, this is a solution of 40 grams NH4NO3 in 100mL of water, but obviously this is more than just 100 mills. Meanwhile, this is solid KCl. What we're trying to get is a solution of water, ammonium chloride, and, wait for it, potassium nitrate.

"This will be a double replacement reaction. The chloride ions and the nitrate ions switch places. Write out the reaction equation. No, that one goes on the left side, it's what we start out with. There." The former spy rubbed her hands together, obviously pleased that her plan on getting the boys to both learn their chemistry and help her make secret bomb reagents was working. "Not bad, not bad. Alright. I want only a hundred grams of KNO3. We first have to figure out the limiting reagent for the reaction, and while we do that it will also tell us how much of each we need to make a hundred grams."

It was about three hours later that Zhalia came into the house, sweating from the Venice heat and the prolonged exposure to the heat of the Boltflare Bunsen burner. She bumped into Dante in the kitchen.

"Hey! Didn't expect you till later." The detective smiled, earning him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Yeah, well, the boys needed some hands on chem help and your place has a walled in area. Needed the privacy."

The term 'hands on' set off mild alarm bells in Dante's mind. "What kind of chemistry help?"

"Nothing special. Could I borrow some of that sugar?" Zhalia asked casually before she snaked an arm around her boyfriend, snatched up a handful, and darted outside faster than he could catch her about the waist.

Odd behavior was normal in Dante's house. When your girlfriend crawled into your window about as often as she used the door, your oldest friend in the house was a talking gargoyle that was from a time before memory and your protégés frequently required you to buy new dishware after magical accidents and pranks, you got used to _odd_.

But a certain chemically inclined someone yelling " _Guys, I got the sucrose! Open the can, open the fucking can before he figures it out!_ " would always be a _little_ disconcerting in Dante's mind.

Especially considering what happened to her _last_ apartment.

" _ZHALIA, WE AGREED NO MORE BOMBS IN THE CLOSETS!_ "

Coffee mug forgotten, the Foundation's Finest dashed from his kitchen to the door just in time to hear Den and Harrison utter "Boltflare!" at their guardian's urging and the quiet hiss of a very short fuse.

And the entire courtyard was blanketed in a thick white smoke.

Sophie looked up from her psychology notes when a white haze drifted in front of the window and raucous laughter reached her ears. "What on earth are they getting up to out there?"

Lok followed her gaze and had to hide his disappointment at being left out. "Looks like Zhalia taught them how to make smoke bombs."

"Oh." Dante's shadow flitted through the smoke, easily identifiable by his flapping trench coat. "Should we help him or something?"

Frowning, the Lambert boy leaned back in his chair, half attempted maths homework forgotten. "Nah. It's chemistry. Can't get in the way of that." He cracked a smile.

Sophie shook her head. "That was lame, Lok Lambert."

"Ah, you love me for it. Can't deny that… _reaction!_ "

The Casterwill groaned and put her head down on the table, but couldn't hide the smile on her face.

* * *

 _( **A/N:** Also, a big "thank you!" to everyone who has read, reviewed, or done any type of stoichiometry in their life. But mostly to the readers and reviewers. You all are the best.) _


	5. Mini Drabbles, pt 1

_(_ _ **A/N:** O_ _kay, to be honest, Duly Noted pt 2 is giving me major writers block. Instead, here's some short shorts that I came up with. 'Florida' is actually going to be part of a bigger drabble that I hope to write out soon, once I get everything sorted in my head. But you've heard that before. I generally frown on self-insert, but I am guilty of using it quite often._

 _Please enjoy these very random Huntik short shorts!)_

* * *

 **The Age Game**

"Hey there, love." Dante and Zhalia both looked up as a fellow bar patron sauntered over. "Why don't you leave this little trench coat coot to himself and come have a few shots with me, eh?" His distinct Australian accent laid the charm on thick as he leaned a tanned arm on the mahogany bar, getting within inches of Zhalia's face.

Dante bristled but said nothing, gripping his beer bottle tightly. If he knew anything about Zhalia it would be that she never liked him fighting her battles for her, but the fact that this man would be so brazen still set his hackles up. His dark haired date glanced at him from the corner of her eye before spinning her barstool to face the offending Aussie, resting her temple on her knuckles.

And to Dante's astonishment, she twirled her finger in the air and ordered, in a perfect replication of a Bondi Beach regular's accent, "Give us a look, yeah? A little twirl." Zhalia took in the Aussie's body as he obliged, then leaned back slightly. "Yeah, alright. I'll go with ya."

Dante choked on his beer, nearly spewing the mouthful across the bar pit. Zhalia casually patted him on the back, and when the detective caught his breath enough to glance up, she caught his eye and gave him a brief wink.

"One condition though, mate." Zhalia flicked away the man's offered hand. "You gotta guess my age. One chance."

The man's face fell. At the table behind him his friends roared in laughter. To guess a woman's age was to play with fire, and something in this particular woman's eye told him that this was a fire he would _not_ like to be burned by. "Ah come on, lass…"

"Clock's tickin', mate." Cool as ever, Zhalia sipped her drink and stared him down, not letting up in the slightest.

After shifting nervously from foot to foot the offending Aussie mumbled hopefully, "Twenty three?"

" _Errrt!_ Wrong." Zhalia's voice reverted back to its usual accent, and she waved the dejected fellow back to his table. "Now fuck off."

Instead of deterring more interruptions, Zhalia's little game had the opposite affect. One by one the other five men at the Aussie's table filed up and tried to guess the woman's age for the chance of taking her home. While she remained unruffled and casual, Dante soon found himself glowering at the bar top, scraps of his beer bottle's label torn to shreds alongside the damp napkin that came with Zhalia's drink. He kept assuring himself that she was messing with them, merely stringing them along so they would leave them alone, but it was their third date for chrissake.

And then it dawned on him.

As the last patron brave enough to test himself slumped back to his seat, Zhalia spun back to the bar and ordered another drink. "Sorry about that." She tipped her head towards him. "…We okay?" Deep within her eyes, behind all the cocky sureness and cold steel swagger, Dante saw a tinge of worry and doubt.

"We're okay. Because you don't actually know how old you are, do you?"

Dante smirked when Zhalia tossed her hair back and gave him an impish grin, all sharp bright teeth and contained mirth. "I know I'm legal." And she bumped him with her shoulder, dark hair brushing his arm. "You know the foster system. Files get shredded, fires break out, floods rush in…Titans get loose…." Her partner laughed and shook his head.

No matter what, she would always be a mystery to him. And he loved her for it.

* * *

 **Florida**

"This is _awful_." Den muttered to Lok, once again having to extricate his legs from a densely twined rope of briar. "I know everyone jokes that Florida is bad but this..."

"You'll get used to it." Dante assured the two younger Seekers as he passed them on the poor excuse for a trail. The ground was damp, nearly soggy with rain, and the thick leaf litter was hell for footing. Everyone but Lok and Den were doing moderately well considering though, and they were making good time through the dense hammock of trees and underbrush.

A barked laugh from the head of the odd procession rang out. Their guide spun around, bound ponytail flaring out at her waist. "That's bullshit, son. You _never_ get used to this!" And she cackled to herself quietly, shaking her head as she turned back around and mumbled to a mildly amused Zhalia at her side. "Get used to a Central Florida summer. Ha! Twenty one years and I still hate it." The woman devolved into further mutterings about the ways the local flora and fauna enjoyed inconveniencing her during the sweltering half of the year that dominated her state, bobbing her head back and forth.

"Why don't you move, then?" Sophie asked, waving a stick a few feet in front of her face to clear away spider webs that were still intact after the guide parted the main ones with her machete. "If it was that terrible I'm sure you would have gotten out of here by now."

"Because, my dear Casterwill, _I_ am a broke-ass-bitch." Zhalia snorted at this, and Dante cracked a grin. "Besides, there's no place like this place. The closest you can get for diversity is bloody Australia, and it's too dry there for me. Florida's unique. Special in it's own way, ya know?"

Den subtly nudged Lok with his elbow and whispered, "Like some of the residents…."

"Son, I will let you step on that Cottonmouth."

Lok frowned and halted, looking around nervously as he grabbed Den to stop him from taking another step. "On that what?"

Stopping the rest of the group, the guide sheathed her machete and slung a long tube off her back. "Just stay right there, yeah?" With practiced ease she drew a rifle from the tube and pulled a small magazine from her pocket, locking it in and chambering a round. "Don't…move…a muscle." With each word she crept closer to the two now frozen boys, eyes trained on the ground.

And with a surprisingly quiet but sharp pop a previously invisible serpent writhed in death throes at Lok's feet. He squealed and lept away, while Den let out a "Oh, cooool!" as the guide pinned the head and removed it, grinding it into the ground.

"Cottonmouth." The woman smiled broadly, lifting the dead snake by its thick tail. There was a wild, excited light in her golden brown eyes that was a little frightening in its intensity. "Also known as Water Moccasin. More popularly known as dinner."

Zhalia chuckled as the guide repacked her rifle and resumed leading the group. "This is going to be a good one."

Dante shook his head but smiled nonetheless. "If we survive it."

" _ONWARD, YE LOUTS! MORE FLORIDIAN EXPERIANCES AWAIT!"_

* * *

 **Can you Simplemind yourself?**

Lok hissed a few choice words through his teeth as he sat down at the small campfire, vigorously itching his legs through his cargos. The jungle was great for adventures and missions, but terrible for personal health.

"Are you okay?" Sophie asked worriedly, passing her boyfriend a collapsible bowl of scrambled freeze-dried eggs and sausage. "You've been scratching like that for two days now."

From the little camp table Zhalia muttered into the rim of her coffee mug, "I'm going to let that one slide. _So_ many terrible things I could say." But no one heard her besides Dante, who likewise hid his grin with a sip of coffee.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I guess." Lok huffed and started spooning food into his mouth. "It's just…You ever have something crawl into your pants and bite you?"

Zhalia flipped the ancient map they were following over casually as she answered before Sophie could. "It depends on the mission schedule but I'd say once or twice every other day. Why, you two need relationship advice?"

Dante promptly spat coffee all over his Holotome.

"Oh my _Gooooood_." Den wailed, covering his face with his hands. " _Please_ tell me you can use Simplemind on yourself because _I need mind bleach!_ "

Harrison grabbed his elder twin's wrists. "Wait! I Simplemind you, then you Simplemind me! It'll work!"

Sophie just looked skyward, shaking her head to hide the flaming blush on her cheeks.

Lok was the only one puzzled. "Wait…what? I don't understand why is…what?" To the side, Cherit flapped over to Dante and patted the elite Seeker on the back with a tiny paw as he cleared the last of the coffee from his lungs.

Zhalia just smirked and went back to studying the map.


	6. Mini Drabbles, pt 2

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Okay this whole 'won't say the story was updated if you update twice in 24 hours' thing is driving me nuts because I've been working on mini drabbles for a while now. I got fed up, so I have some for today and a few more for tomorrow. Ignore what the update day says and look at the chapters to see if there's new content because I'm on a roll!_

 _No more Florida stuff till I figure out if it will be in a separate drabble fic. Cheers!_

 _PS – Screw unknown timelines! I'm makin' my own dates!)_

* * *

 **Ticklish**

"…When you gather like this it makes me nervous." The Twins, Lok and Sophie all jumped at Dante's smooth voice, startled by his silent approach. Besides the team, the entire safe house library was empty, Cleese having taken his lunch break not ten minutes ago.

Sophie spun around, appearing flustered. "Dante, I told them not to do this. It was Lok's idea, I _swear_ –"

" _Me?_ " Lok's voice rose in indignation. " _You're_ the one who got all competitive like you used to get, and then Den and Harrison started chanting like some weird Indian ritual–"

Harrison put his hands up and backed away. "Den started it. He's oldest, I just follow his lead."

"Oh come on, Harrison, that's total bullshit! I remember a good six whole _months_ where you wanted to rip my head off instead of following my lead!"

" _Enough_." Dante's paper coffee cup somehow managed to make a very final sounding ' _clop'_ on the table. "I don't even want to know what you're all jabbering about. Where's Zhalia?" The four teens exchanged glances and Dante crossed his arms. "…She's somehow a part of this, isn't she?"

The answer came as a pair of hands attacked the elite Seeker's sides. Dante doubled over, letting out a _very_ uncharacteristic squeak as his attacker followed him to the ground, absolutely merciless.

"Zh-Zhalia, that had bet-better be you!"

A fringe of dark blue hair brushed over Dante's face as the aforementioned ex-spy smirked down at him. "Somehow we got to talking about bets and if you were ticklish or not." Zhalia patted his cheek affectionately. "I just made sixty euros on you, hot stuff."

"Nooooooo…." Dante wheezed between uncontrollable giggles, curling up into a ball as Zhalia tickled his sides again to the amusement of the younger Seekers. "My weakness…."

* * *

 **Logosbook**

 **Day 5**

Zhalia snatched up the Logosbook the second the door to her quarters locked. Oh, there was going to be hell to pay for the tricks he pulled that night. Some punches or direct powers were all fine in the way of keeping her cover, but _this?_

Her handwriting was sharp and quick. ' _A Slipsnare? Seriously? I should have pegged in the back of the head when I had the chance.'_

The infiltrator dropped onto the cot in the corner, taking off that stupid mask and pulling down her hood. His response appeared as Zhalia tapped the end of the pen against her lips in impatience.

' _I thought you would_ like _being tied up. We did broach the topic a few times if I'm not mistaken.'_

Zhalia nearly bit the end of the pen off.

Oh, he fucking _knew_ she meant tying _him_ up.

' _Next time, I'm going to hit you hard enough to knock that stupid little grin off your face, Red. I know you're doing it! I'll hit you hard enough to alter the fucking past and knock it off your face in this very moment!'_

' _Miss you too, babe._ '

She froze.

Countless infiltration missions. Dozens of assassinations. Weeks, months, _years_ of undercover work.

And no one had ever told her that they missed her while she was in the field.

So she responded the only way she knew how:

' _Shut up and go to sleep, Red.'_

* * *

 **Ice**

Dante Vale was practically an Olympic level athlete. He could brave any obstacle and nearly always found a way to the other side. He made the hard way look like the easy way, made Indiana Jones and James Bond look like Huggies wearing rookies, and could logic and puzzle his way out of any problem or mystery faster than Sherlock bloody Holmes.

That being said, he was a _regular_ Olympic level athlete.

Screw this Winter Olympics bullshit.

Dante very quietly swore to himself as he brushed ice and snow off his pants from where he had collided with the canal wall. In a freak turn of weather Venice had somehow managed get stuck in a deep freeze for the first time in ages, and many people were out enjoying the effects. When Sophie had noted that the canals had frozen over and people were iceskating on them, Lok had jumped at the chance to skate around town.

The Irish Seeker's enthusiasm had been infectious. Soon the whole team had donned skates and took of on the ice for a day of fun.

Dante wasn't as pleased at this as the rest. It just meant that more people would see his literal slip ups.

"I'd say that you're the picture of grace as always, but I promised to cut down on the lying."

Dante looked up to see Zhalia easily skating backwards past him, her customary smirk playing at her lips. Her usual choker scarf was replaced with a deep blue knit one, the same one he had bought her for Christmas. "Come on, don't tell me you never properly learned to skate, hot stuff." Zhalia executed a swift turn and came back to him, sliding to a stop.

"Metz wasn't the best on the ice either." Dante couldn't help but smile as Zhalia brushed some wayward snow from his hair. "Speaking of grace, though…you could probably teach me a thing or two."

The ex-spy seemed to look him up and down. "I don't know…you only get better with experience. And whenever I try to teach anyone something it always ends up blowing up." She toyed with the lining of his winter trench coat, smoothing it out.

Dante raised his eyebrows, a devilish gleam in his eye. "I could always just try and chase you down."

Zhalia barked a laugh and got as close to nose to nose with her partner as she could without raising on her toes. "You wouldn't get three meters without falling on your ass, let alone close enough to catch me." Her eyes were also gleaming, but with that feral fire that set Dante's heart pounding and threatened to melt away all the ice in Venice.

"I don't know…." Dante rumbled, leaning down to put his forehead against Zhalia's. He could feel her breath quicken, see the predatory pulse in the little exposed flesh her winter clothes afforded. "I seem to have caught you already."

The woman started slightly, then cast her gaze down to where Dante's hands gripped her arms. A slow, toothy smile spread across her lips.

"Touché."

It was then that Dante noticed that her hand was on his chest.

And a second later she gave him a slight push.

He lay in the snowdrift in an adoring daze, watching her skate away with the grace of a languid snow leopard. Her voice cut across the ice and made him stagger to his feet with renewed conviction.

"Catch me if you can."

* * *

 **Logosbook**

 **Day 23**

Dante eased himself down into an armchair, his whole body heavy with aches and pains. A frozen bag of peas wrapped in a tea towel was gently deposited on the armrest, and the detective looked up to see who had given him the kindness.

"Thanks, Cherit." Dante gingerly rested the bag against the left side of his face, trying to expose both the bruised scrape on his cheekbone and the cut on his temple to the soothing cold. The contact made him flinch.

"Any time, old friend." Cherit landed on the chair opposite, dangling is little legs down as he eyed Dante with concern. "Who managed to put you in this state, Dante? It isn't like you to take this much of a beating when fighting a handful of Spiral goons."

The detective let out a wincing chuckle. "Who else? Our friend behind the lines." He lifted the Logosbook from where it sat on his knee. "Zhalia's taking the whole 'make it convincing' thing a little further than I thought she would."

Cherit shook his head with a grin full of fangs. "Aye, the lass doesn't hold back. I hope she's a little less rough with you next time though!"

"Don't worry, Cherit. She knows what she's doing. I think she's still angry at me for that Slipsnare trick a while back." Activating the journal, Dante flipped it open. "She _did_ tell me she wouldn't go easy as revenge." He uncapped his pen one handed and scrawled a very quick message.

' _Ow._ '

Cherit had long since left Dante icing his face in the sitting room when the book pulsed nearly an hour later. Peeling the bag away from his skin, having abandoned the tea towel, Dante squinted through his swelling black eye to read Zhalia's response.

' _Slip. Snare. Was. Bullshit.'_ There was a pause. _'Did I give you any sexy facial scars?'_

Despite how it made the scrape on his cheek bleed again, Dante smiled. That was as close to an 'are you okay?' as he was going to get.

' _No lasting damage. Don't worry, my beautiful face is still intact. Mostly.'_ He worked his jaw experimentally, testing his own words. ' _You have a_ very _mean roundhouse kick.'_

' _These bastards have me wearing metal tipped high fucking heels. Tantras gave me a lecture when I tried to wear some of those regular boots the guys get. This is sexism and if we had a union they'd hear about this.'_ Dante chuckled and shook his head. The next message surprised him. ' _I don't like hitting you though. So…sorry. When this is all over I'll kiss it and make it better.'_

An evil grin sent beads of blood rolling down Dante's jawline.

' _Well, you_ did _kick me between–'_

' _I take it back.'_ Zhalia's message cut his off. It was followed by a surprisingly soft, halting note. ' _I miss you, Red.'_

' _I miss you too, Blue.'_ His hand shook with the knowledge that he very well might not ever see her by his side again if his visions came to pass. ' _Love you._ '

His heart ached when she responded slowly, testing the words neither of them ever had spoken aloud or put to paper but always understood.

' _Love you too.'_

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _I started actually_ watching _Huntik season 2 and not skipping around to the big battle bits. The only time I tried to watch it fully was when it was released in Italian on youtube and let's just say the closest I got to translating it was two years of high school level French workbooks. So please excuse my lack of Season 2 knowledge but I'm learning._

 _Look for more mini drabbles tomorrow afternoon! Cheers mates!)_


	7. Mini Drabbles, pt 3

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Sorry about not updating yesterday. Some real life Florida stuff happened and it turned the day upside-down for a bit. When I booted up this morning I realized I only had two more drabbles so had to whip the last one up between housework duties._

 _Hoping to get a longer two-shot started tonight. Cheers mates!_

 _PS– For some reason 'Domestic Life' is kinda my favorite at the moment.)_

* * *

 **Domestic Life**

The setting Venice sun sank low enough to shoot its light into Dante's training room. Caught in its golden beams, Dante and Zhalia sat comfortably together on the sheets of plastic laid out, sipping mugs of tea and observing their handiwork.

"It looks good." Zhalia commented, eyeing the freshly painted walls. The new light set the room glowing with warmth, chasing away the coming dusk.

Her partner had been putting off repainting for literal years. Both of them had close to zero experience with housework outside of patching holes from attacks and repairing damaged household electronics. But on the other hand, they had next to nothing else to do with the lazy afternoon while Lok lead the rest of the team on a mission for the fourth day that week. Giving in to boredom, Dante had finally pulled out the supplies and recruited Zhalia to help him.

To be honest, it had been a little fun. And they had managed to keep from throwing paint at each other. Well, mostly. They gave in to the temptation twice over the four hours it took them to finish.

Dante smiled, more distracted by the way the colors highlighted his girlfriend's features than interested in the paint job. "Yeah. It does." Tearing his eyes away from her when she caught him staring, he cleared his throat and took a sip from his tea. Zhalia was nestled comfortably against his side with his arm around her shoulders. She had started doing this more often since the Spiral War, and Dante relished the closeness it brought.

"Sooo…" Zhalia gestured around the room. "This is domestic life, huh? A couple painting a room together? Cheesy music in the background? Possible montage material for the growing bond between them?"

The Foundation's Finest laughed and looked around. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is. A slice of normal life." He sighed with contentment, leaning his head against the now dried wall behind them. "It's kind of nice. Peaceful."

"Yeah."

They lasted for about two more minutes in quiet contemplation of this newfound 'domestic life.'

Zhalia, of course, broke the silence.

"Wanna go find some Suits?"

Dante set down his mug with an appreciative groan. "Oh, _God_ , I thought you'd never ask."

And then they were darting across the Venice rooftops, running from that disgustingly languid thing that people called 'Domestic Life.'

* * *

 **Logosbook**

 **Day 12**

Dante rubbed his eyes and took another hit of coffee. He was going over his notes for appealing to the Foundation Council with Sophie in the morning. He could practically see Casterwill trial rights stamped into his eyelids, but he didn't dare sleep until he had found all the information he could get his hands on.

The Logosbook beside his Holotome pulsed suddenly, and Dante snatched it up eagerly. Maybe he _could_ use a break from all the Casterwill texts.

By the message he had received, the detective quickly deduced that his partner was feeling some boredom as well.

' _Heard mutterings of Foundation jets being equipped with a power cannon. That wouldn't happen to be the amplifier I left on my desk, now would it?_ '

Dante smiled slightly. He had caught her tinkering with some broken Holotome parts and busted cellphones weeks before she left. After much urging she had presented her, quote, 'tossed together hobby piece' to the Council to see if it would be useful to the Foundation, but the amplifier hadn't been put into action until after she infiltrated the Spirals.

' _Don't worry. Your baby is being replicated and put into the whole fleet. It passed all inspection and field testing with flying colors.'_

He could hear her scoff. ' _Of course it did._ I'm _the one who made it.'_ Several dots appeared as she tapped the pen to the page. ' _Recoil give you any trouble?'_

Dante leaned back in his chair, seeing LeBlanche asleep in the other seat. Reaching out he gently shook the older man, rousing him. "Sorry to wake you."

"Oh dear, did I nod off for a bit?" LeBlanche hurriedly smoothed out his vest and tie as he sat up straight. "Terribly sorry, Dante."

"It's okay, LeBlanche." The Foundation's Finest gave the anxious Brit a gentle smile. "Odd question for a friend. Did the plane experience any recoil when you fired the Amplifier?"

LeBlanche looked puzzled. "Well…no, not that I can recall. Perhaps some rumbling through the fuselage, but that was likely from the knob being turned to the red."

"Thanks." Dante lifted the Logosbook in explanation. "Zhalia wanted to know how it handled."

"Ah! Give Miss Moon my best, and tell her it went swimmingly for whatever that thing was." Rising to his feet, LeBlanche pushed his hair back into smooth perfection. "Now, I believe it is quite past my bedtime! Good night, Dante."

The detective bid him good night and turned back to his book. ' _LeBlanche says he sends his best and that the Amplifier went "_ swimmingly _" without any recoil.'_

' _You let_ LEBLANCHE _fire my amplifier?!'_ Another pause. _'Have to go. Talk later, Red._ '

Dante felt his heart flutter with worry at her words. Whenever she signed off, it always felt like he was watching her walk away all over again, unable to follow and protect her as he longed to do.

' _Stay safe, Blue.'_

* * *

 **Stars, pt 1**

"That's Mars, right there." Zhalia pointed to a tiny reddish orange dot an inch or two away from the moon.

"Really?" Dante raised the binoculars and boosted the zoom to half power. After some admittedly unauthorized tinkering by his partner, the binoculars rivaled quite a few telescopes in their power.

A small red dot the size of a pencil eraser jumped into his view. He couldn't pick out much detail, but it was clearly not a star and looked just like what he imagined the planet would look. Rust red beyond the smudges of white at the poles, rocky, and fairly barren. In all it was very different from the grassy knoll they were laying on. "Oh, that's pretty cool. Want a look?"

Dante offered the scopes to Zhalia, who shook her head. "I've seen Mars enough. It doesn't change much, at least not in ways we can see." She settled back down on the grass, one arm cushioning her head and ankle crossed over her raised knee. "Too bad the teens are all asleep. It's a good night for seeing the planets."

To her right the detective chuckled softly. "Ms Lambert's cooking put them in a food coma. I'm surprised they made it upstairs at all."

Zhalia smirked. "Not all of them. Den's on the couch."

"Of course he is." Dante laughed.

They were silent for a few long moments, appreciating each others company and the gentle sounds of the Irish countryside. With few lights to dampen their view, the stars were out in earnest, blinking and glittering around the waning gibbous moon.

Zhalia suddenly boosted herself onto her elbows. "Ah ha! There it is." She pointed towards the sky again, excitement only betrayed by her voice and the gleam in her eyes. "Saturn! This is why I rigged the scope. Put it to max."

Dante complied, following the trajectory she traced out. As his hands stilled and the image came in to focus, he couldn't help the swelling of boyish wonder that rose in his chest.

"Whoa…."

He could see the rings. He could see three different layers of color and the tiny dots of moons hovering beyond them. For a few moments he was a kid again, learning the constellations from Metz high up in the mountains where the air was sharp and the stars just seemed so much brighter.

And while part of him marveled at the spectacular view, a small part of his mind was in wonder at the woman beside him. Somehow she always knew just what to do to take his breath away.

"See anything exciting?"

Cherit's high voice broke the spell, and Dante lowered the binoculars as Zhalia greeted the Titan. "Hey, Cherit. Just some planets tonight."

With a flutter of membrane wings Cherit alighted on the grass and flopped onto his back beside Dante's head, mirroring Zhalia's position as he tiled his gaze to the heavens. "Ah. In all my years the stars have never lost their beauty."

Dante tilted his head in the ancient Titan's direction. "Have they changed much?" He gestured to the expanse above them. "The stars?" Zhalia looked over at this, interest piqued.

Cherit hummed in contemplation for a moment, eyes flicking across the sky. "I'm sure they have…. I'm afraid I can't recall anything shockingly different at the moment."

Zhalia grinned. "You'd tell us if the moon was a different color when Casterwill was around, right?"

"…I _am_ recalling a distinct orange color…." The Titan winked, his warbling laugh weaving into Zhalia's light chuckle.

The ex-spy reached over and took the binoculars from her partner, detaching them before screwing them together into a single telescopic tube. With a flourish she held it down towards the newcomer on the knoll. "Think you can remember the names they used for the constellations way back when, old timer?"

Cherit sat up, eyes bright in the gloom. "I'd be delighted, lass!"

Dante smiled as the Titan took the instrument into his hands and flutter-hopped down to their feet to better wield it. As he did, the detective inched his own hand into the space left and let his knuckles brush against Zhalia's.

His heart did a flutter of its own, as it always did, when she accepted his gesture and gently entwined her fingers with his.

It was a perfect night.

* * *

 _( **A/N:** Continuing the head canon that Zhalia has techie habits and tinkers quite a bit when no one is looking. Another head canon of mine is that, because she ended up sleeping under them quite often throughout childhood and then adult years on missions, Zhalia has quite a bit of appreciation for the stars and the night sky. Plus, name checks out. _

_Cheers you lot!)_


	8. Trust and Tallies (S1)

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _I finished season two last night and might I say, Den is a sass master. No wonder he and Zhalia hit it off so quick. But more on that in another short._

 _But check it out! Blast from the past! I realized I liked SeasonOne!Zhalia a bit more than season two, mostly because she actually_ DID THINGS _. And snarked a lot more._

 _This dabble is set after the Crawling the Catacombs/Divide and Conquer twofer. Thought I'd try my hand at CoolheadGruffLeader!Dante and GrumpySnarkLoner!Zhalia. With a bit of 'ffs work with me here, we both have some trust issues.' thrown in to keep the DxZ train going._

 _Sickfic is still being plotted during long showers and lots of muttering to myself while driving. Cheers!_

 _PS– I smashed this out over the course of two hours. And it shows. Sorry.)_

* * *

 **Trust and Tallies**

"Nice job today." Dante nodded towards Zhalia as Lok, Sophie and Cherit all plodded up the stairs for some much needed rest. "We couldn't have gotten the ring to the safe house without your help."

Zhalia smirked slightly. "No so bad yourself. Shame it was all for a useless artifact." Dante responded with a slight grunt of agreement, shedding his trench coat and taking a seat at the table as his teammate started searching cabinets.

The detective looked up from his Holotome when swearing reached his ears. "They never put it in the fucking place they're supposed to." Zhalia scowled and turned her head slightly to address her shoulder. "Go find the damn first aid kit, will you?"

Dante started to stand but stopped when a gurgled growl sounded and the clack of long claws on linoleum countertops filled the room. Seconds later indents of clawed paw prints appeared in the halls carpet.

"…Are you alright?" Dante asked. He was still getting accustomed to Zhalia's habit of allowing Gareon to summon himself while off mission. More pressing, however, was the woman's request to the Titan.

"Oh, I'm just peachy." Zhalia snapped back. "I went head to head with an acid spitting, flying fucking manta ray. Go back to your sitrep."

Dante reached down under his chair and retrieved the misplaced first aid kit. "Then I guess you don't need this." He yanked the box out of Zhalia's reach when she lunged for it, instinctively knocking her outstretched arm away. "My sitrep involves listing team injuries. So why don't you sit down and let me help you? I know you lone wolf types like to lick your wounds alone but you're on my team now. You need to play by my rules."

Zhalia glared at him silently, unconsciously cradling the arm he had made contact with.

His next statement ended the argument. "Or we could just add into the report that you lied about being able to use Everfight and Everheal. Because we both know that would bench you from active missions. It might even breach your contract with the Foundation."

After another moment of stubbornness, the woman kicked out the chair cattycorner to the detective and dropped down into it. A flare of green light shot down the hallway and disappeared into the amulet around her neck as Gareon answered his Seeker's mental call. "Fine. I need this job."

"You _need_ to start accepting help." Dante chided as he snapped open the clasps on the first aid kit. "Let's see it."

Zhalia let out a sharp ' _Tch'_ at his statement but still started tugging her overshirt up and over her head. It came free easily until she began literally pealing it away from her right arm.

Alarmed, Dante reached out to stop her from causing more damage. He held up his hands when Zhalia jerked away from him as if stung. "Hey, easy. I was just going to help. It'll go a lot better if it's done with two hands."

Zhalia seemed to search his face for any sign that he was deceiving her. It took a long moment, but she eventually complied.

As his teammate warily extended her arm towards him, Dante found himself wondering what exactly she had gone through to make her so mistrustful of everyone.

Zhalia was known to him as the Foundation's only lone wolf spy and saboteur, accustomed to creeping behind the Organization's back to perform acts of moral debate. From the two year record of mission work before she began using her more cunning skills, it was clear that she had what it took to fight head on as well. The successful mission list was daunting, especially when one considered she had been alone for every single one of them.

Then again, Dante mused, he had a similar record. And he wasn't exactly the most trusting guy around either.

Dante gently slipped the cuff of the sleeve off Zhalia's wrist, subconsciously sucking his teeth as the full extent of her wound was revealed. "Kreutalk?"

"Was 'acid spitting, flying fucking manta ray' not enough of a clue for you?" Zhalia let out a sharp hiss as Dante gently tested the deeply burned flesh of her forearm. "You've helped enough. Just let me use Skingrip on it, it'll heal on its own."

The detective shook his head. This…this was bad. "You shouldn't have been walking around with it like this." The pits of destroyed skin were deep, deep enough to possibly cause nerve damage if not healed properly and quickly.

"What the hell was I supposed to do? 'Oh, gee, sorry Defoe, let me stop and wash this acid off.'" She tried to pull away, only to be stopped by Dante's firm grip on her relatively unmarked wrist.

Zhalia's eyes narrowed dangerously. "…You're toeing a line, Vale. You have three seconds to let go before I start doing something we both will regret."

"Take it easy." Dante put his free hand on the woman's shoulder. "Just trust me. Everheal!"

Zhalia flinched back as her forearm was encased in golden light. Dante squeezed her shoulder in reassurance, and was honestly surprised when the woman actually stilled and he felt her muscles loosen slightly.

The light faded, and the detective released his patient to let her experimentally clench her fist and examine his handiwork. Knowing her, he didn't expect a thank you, and busied himself with closing the unused first aid kit back up.

What he really didn't expect was what she said next.

"…Why'd you do that?"

Dante raised his eyebrows and turned from where he was sliding the kit in its proper place above the sink. Yep, Zhalia was still the only person in the room, so the soft, almost… _sad? marveling_? question had to have come from her.

"You mean why did I heal you?"

Zhalia rolled her eyes. "No, take the flying, talking cat you keep around for a walk. _Yes,_ heal me." Ah. Better. That was the Zhalia he knew.

Still, the confirmation of her question made his already raised eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline. "That's what you do for friends and teammates." He shrugged. "It looked like it hurt. And it could have given you nerve damage." He rejoined the Foundation spy at the table.

"It was a waste of energy." Zhalia muttered, drawing her fingers down the smooth inside of her previously ruined forearm. "I would have handled it."

In the mellow light of the Paris kitchen Dante could see pale white marks and satin pink lines scattered across her skin, evidence of a lifetime of battles. With her overshirt gone, it was clear that Zhalia was owner of an impressive array of scars, many of which danced up her lean tawny arms and scattered across her shoulders to disappear under her tank top.

Without Everfight and Everheal, each wound that decorated her body became a physical and permanent tally of Zhalia's every victory and loss. It detailed a life of hardship and struggle, but the very fact that she was still living and breathing was testament to her ability to fight and survive.

Dante eyed the choker style scarf that his teammate always wore, and wondered if it was just another hiding place for another mark in Zhalia's tally book.

No wonder she always snarked at others for having an easy life. Hers had apparently been anything but.

"Zhalia, you're a part of a team now." Dante leaned forward and set down one of the mugs of tea he had brought over in front of the blue haired woman. "There are people you can trust to have your back. If not the teens then you can always come to me."

Zhalia's fist clenched at his final words. "Whatever. Waste your own energy if you want." She snatched up her shirt and grabbed the mug before stalking to the open doorway that led to their rooms in the hall.

But right at the threshold she stopped, hand resting on the jamb as she just barely looked back over her shoulder. "…Thanks for healing me, Dante. Even though I had it under control and it was as waste." Dante grinned at her soft-spoken version of gratitude and assured her it was no problem.

Satisfied, the woman strode down the hallway a few more steps before casting back over her shoulder, "And thanks for the fucking tea!"

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Already started on another few season one fics. Still watching season one. Still enjoying it more than season two, despite missing Den's impressive sass._

 _Cheers, you lot!)_


	9. Trust Me (S1)

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Cheesy fic set in Season One after Zhalia reappears and helps the team defeat Rassimov at the Amazon city/village thing. How do you convince a broken spy to give herself a second chance?_

 _Be warned. There's SO much cheese. The literary type not the literal type. Plus I feel like everyone is kinda OoC. Though that's not remotely new in this collection now is it?_

 _Also, just so you all know, I have TONS of drabbles and shots going right now and a few are ready to be published up here. I'm just biding my time so that the stupid 24 hour update limit doesn't bite me again._

 _Cheers mates!)_

 **Trust Me**

Lok and Sophie darted into the throng of Amazons, Cherit laughing with glee as he followed them by air. The fires were high and the music was loud and exotic. Dance had taken over the little hidden city, and although the successful defense of Metz's daughter and his bonding with Behemoth were reasons to celebrate, Dante didn't feel like joining in.

Instead, the Foundation's Finest turned to the outskirts of the Amazon city, where firelight flickered and ghosted in the shadows of the forest. A lone figure sat on one of the many felled trees that marked the its boundaries at the cusp of civilization and savagery.

Zhalia sat balanced on the knifes edge of the warmth of the fires light and the darkness of the wilds behind her. It cast her in an orange tinged dusk, and despite the dangers that lurked there Dante stepped into it without hesitation.

"Looks like you saved us again." Dante didn't wait for an invitation or permission and sat beside the former spy. She looked away from him, eyes fixed on the ground, and didn't respond.

So Dante took a risk he had wanted to take for a long time. He leaned towards Zhalia, his shoulder touching hers lightly, and murmured, "I'm glad you came back, Zhalia. The team… _I'm_ not right without you here."

Zhalia shivered at his quiet words. For another long moment she was silent, then she said, "We both know I can't stay, Dante." She looked up, still refusing to make eye contact with him, and watched the flames of the main bonfire dance in the darkness. "I've done too much harm to the Foundation...and that can't go unpunished.

"Which is why I want you to have these. You…You're the only one I… _trust_ to treat them right."

With shaking hands the spy passed Dante a familiar looking pouch. With a pang he realized it was the bag she always wore strapped to her leg, and a quick check inside confirmed his suspicions.

All her amulets were inside. Their gems pulsed dimly, their flickering indicating distress for the Titan within as well as their bonded Seeker. Gareon's amulet was a frantic beat of anguish in a league of its own, and the very sight made Dante's own Titans stir restlessly through their bond.

A million different reasons that could explain Zhalia giving him her most precious companions spun whirlwinds in Dante's mind. The one that continued to present itself was the most horrifying to the detective. Eventually it was the only one that could be heard in the rabble of his mind, screaming above all the other more logical and rational thoughts.

Dante forced his voice to remain calm. "Zhalia, be honest with me." The former spy snorted, muttering a comment about that being a first. Near imperceptible tremors ran the length of her body in response to her Titans agonized cries for her to take them back. "Are you planning on dying anytime soon?"

Zhalia let out a pent up breath. "Not unless that's how the Foundation punishes spies." From the bag at her feet she drew out a pair of metal wrist restraints and set them on the tree trunk between them. The constant pulse of nullification power was unmistakable. They were Seeker restraints, imbued with Breakspell to prevent the use of powers and Titans.

"As of now, I'm surrendering myself to the Huntik Foundation." Again refusing to look at him, Zhalia braced her elbows on her knees and let her hands hang loose as she went back to studying the dirt between her feet. "Just…treat my Titans right. They like you, and I don't want them going into storage somewhere or given to some operative. I want you to have them."

Dante suddenly thrust the pouch back towards the former spy, making her jump slightly.

"I'm not going to do that." His tone left no room for argument. "Zhalia, as far as I'm concerned, you're a part of this team. I…" He faltered. Despite his ladykiller reputation, he had never been too good at voicing his true feelings in a way that wasn't laced heavily with charm and charisma.

This woman was different. Charisma wasn't something she was wooed by, especially when she was feeling this vulnerable. No, he couldn't even think of the words to try and charm his way into convincing her to stay with the team. To stay with _him_.

But maybe….

Dante took a deep breath and steeled himself for the possible rejection he was about to face. "Zhalia, no matter what's happened in the past, you didn't go through with it. I _still_ trust you, more than anyone. I need you and you proved that today.

"If you can find it in yourself to trust me…it would mean the world if you stayed with the team."

He didn't realize Zhalia had reached for the pouch until her fingers brushed his. He froze, the contact sending a not unpleasant shock down his arm. He felt the Titans within calm, and most of all he felt the warmth of just being in Zhalia's presence. For the first time since he was a boy, a simple touch made his heart beat faster.

And then Zhalia took the pouch back, and the moment was lost.

"I'll stay." Her words were nearly too soft to hear. "But it's Metz's decision."

Dante smiled. He could never remember a time he felt so relieved.

Carefully, slowly, he put his arm around Zhalia's shoulders. At first her form remanded ridged, unyielding to his touch. But then, to his inner delight, Dante felt her relax slightly, and she leaned into his body just barely.

It was a start.

Then Dante glanced down at her. "…Are you crying?"

Zhalia wiped at her eyes, cheeks tinged red. "No! Just…smoke from the fires."

"Of course it is." Dante couldn't help the small grin that graced his face. "Nothing to do with my touching speech about trust."

The former spy scoffed, rubbing away the last traces of moisture with her sleeve. "Was that trust you were talking about? I couldn't tell if it was that or something else."

And they both shared a soft smile, the first of many together.

A cheer went up among the Amazons as Lok managed to hook up his phone to a portable speaker and boosted the volume so that the entire city could hear it. Dance music bounced through the clearing,

Dante stood and tilted his head in the direction of the gathered women. "Care to dance?"

Zhalia finished strapping her pouch back to her belt. "I don't dance." His question seemed to make her uneasy again, evidenced by the way she rubbed her upper arms and looked away from him.

"Call it low contact sparring, then." Zhalia looked up and found Dante grinning widely, holding his hand out to her. "Come on. Trust me."

She shook her head with a smirk of her own. "Well, when you put it like that…."

And she took his offered hand.

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _The_ cheeeeeeeese _. It is_ strong _with this one!)_


	10. Mini Drabbles, pt 4

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Some of these mini drabbles are going to be general team/slices of life/there's more than just DxZ in these okay? I love the Fears brothers and Zhalia living together with Zhalia as their guardian/big sis, as well as what could have been the dynamic between Zhalia and Harrison in the Blood Spiral. So there's gonna be a few scattered around._

 _ALSO!_ _A semi heavy T rating for the Lazy Mornings drabble_ _. So if you don't want some more sexual than usual stuff you can skip it. None of it is explicit, more of a morning after sorta thing. Wait, if it's done in the morning does that mean its still technically the morning after even if…I've gone and confused myself, let's just stop._

 _I'll be updating multiple drabbles and bits inside the 24 hour thing, so just look for the chapter numbers instead of the update day/time for a bit._

 _Cheers mates!)_

* * *

 **Bodyguard**

Zhalia sighed in frustration. Harrison was stubborn, she had to give him that. And despite him technically being her superior, he was also a fourteen year old kid that she was honestly rather fond of.

So she'd be damned if he was going to do such a stupid, petty thing and not listen to her. There was going to be a bit more force involved this time around, and fuck it if there were other Spirals watching.

"Harrison, look," The infiltrator put a hand on the young commander's shoulder, trying to sound gently concerned. "I'm your bodyguard, right? Everything I do is supposed to be to protect you either directly or indirectly. I do these things even if it pisses you off, because I'm supposed to be making you stronger and making sure you aren't going to get yourself killed by some jealous grunt or a Casterwill fighter.

"So with that in mind, let's try this again." Zhalia snatched up the plate of picked at food Harrison had discarded under his camp chair by one of the marching army's many fires. She jammed the edge of the plate against his thin chest to articulate her words as she tightened her grip on his shoulder and growled harshly, "Because I'm not leaving your scrawny ass alone until you eat. Your fucking. Dinner."

Harrison's face went bright red and he looked to Tantras, sitting across the fire, for support. The elder Spiral let out one of his disturbing laughs, grinding his staff into the dirt in front of him. "Your guard is right, boy. Do as she says."

If it was possible the youth's face grew even more scarlet as he took the plate and began grudgingly spooning the unappealing mash into his mouth. He swallowed as Zhalia roughly mussed up his hair with a "Was that so hard, kid?" and took a seat beside him.

It looked like she was going to keep her promise and stay by his side until he finished. For some odd reason, Zhalia keeping her word even on such a mundane thing made a comforting warmth rise in his chest.

Harrison was sure to eat every last bite.

* * *

 **Goons**

It had been a quiet week since the defeat of the Professor. Even with the start of school, things were relatively calm around Dante's house.

Which was why Lok was itching for some action, or at least a little controversy and lively conversation.

The aforementioned teen put his latest puzzle box down on Dante's coffee table. "Uh, hey…" Everyone looked up, Sophie from the textbook in her lap, Dante from his newspaper, and Zhalia from her Technomicon. "I've been thinking…Defoe _really_ had it out for you, Dante. And then he just…disappeared."

Dante was silent for a long moment. "…Huh. You're right." He set down the paper, rubbing his bearded chin. "He's not the type to just abandon a grudge."

Zhalia went back to her Technomicon, already bored with the direction the conversation was heading. "Probably dead."

"What?" Sophie shot Zhalia a shocked glare. "What on earth would give you that idea?"

The ex-spy returned the glare with a deadpan expression. "Because that's how the Organization works?" She reached towards Dante, palm up. "Here, I'll prove it. Let me see your phone."

"…Why?" Despite his question, the detective pulled his phone from his back pocket and passed it over.

"Because I know exactly who would have been next in line after Defoe." Zhalia paused, considering another addition. "And because he won't answer my texts." She finished punching in the number and put the phone on speaker.

" _What can I do for you, Vale?"_

Everyone in the room sat bolt upright at the sound of Grier's voice. Everyone but Zhalia, who crossed one leg over the other and leaned back with a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Well _hello_ there, Grier. How's it going in sunny Sutos?"

Grier audibly grumbled through the line. " _Moon. Are the rumors true?_ "

"That I defected from the Organization, turned Klaus to stone, faked my own death, helped Dante and the kids defeat the Professor and now live with the Foundation's number one Seeker?" Zhalia's smirk expanded to a toothy smile. "Yes. To all of the above."

"… _Congratulations on joining the Foundation._ " Grier huffed. " _Do you want something from me?_ "

"Well, I was wondering about a certain someone. Defoe. Ring a bell?" The island ruler grunted in confirmation, sounding more and more irritated with each passing moment while Zhalia seemed quite the opposite. "Tell me, Grier, one former Organization goon to another, you killed him didn't you?"

Grier was silent. Then, " _I was given an order. And I follow orders."_

"As we were taught. No shame in that. Have fun with your personal island, soldier boy." With that Zhalia snapped the phone shut and tossed it back to Dante. "Like I said. It's how the Organization works."

The room was silent. Lok swallowed hard and managed, "Wow. That's…kinda brutal."

"Little fish eat the big fish where I'm from." Zhalia didn't even deign to look up this time. "Unless they start shocking the fish tank. Then we just kind of float until they leave us alone and we go back to plotting revenge."

"Did…did you ever kill a–"

Lok's voice died in his throat as not only Zhalia, but _Dante_ as well, fixed him with a smoldering glare.

The former Organization 'goon' was the one to speak. "Lok, I don't think anyone in this room wants to know the answer to that question. They don't _want_ to, but I'm pretty sure they already _do_. But the less they can confirm, the better for their consciousness. _Get. My drift?"_

Lok gulped again, unable to break eye contact while Zhalia practically pinned him to the wall with her gaze, and nodded.

"Good." The teen nearly slumped back onto his heels and collapsed on the coffee table when Zhalia looked back to her Technomicon.

Everyone went back to their respective activities. At least, they tried to, because a few minutes later Sophie let out a little snicker.

"I'm sorry, it's just," She began in explanation, "when you said 'Organization goon' it made me realize…You were a suit at some point!"

"Sophie, I'm getting _this_ close to using Skingrip on you."

* * *

 **Lazy Mornings**

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Heavy T rating. I was quite ill when I wrote this and a few other bits between the hours of 12am and 4am to keep off fever dreams. Sorry!)_

It wasn't even eight AM yet and already it had been a perfect morning.

Dante and Zhalia were both panting, sprawled in Dante's bed in a tangle of arms and legs as they recovered from a very pleasant wake up call. It was still raining outside, the constant beat of drops on the roof lending a sleepy air to the room that was practically charged with energy not moments ago.

"We...we should start every morning like this." Dante gasped, chest heaving. If anything his partner was even wilder in the early hours, full of energy from a night's rest. "You...I can't even... _damn_ , babe."

Zhalia gave a breathy laugh and stared up at the ceiling. "You're one to talk. I don't think I'll be able to walk for at least an hour." Dante chuckled and rolled over to rest his forehead against her arm. "You're a beast and a tease all in one. _Christ._ "

The detective smiled, the soft bristles of his beard tickling Zhalia's arm. "Is that good?" She rarely used religious swears beyond the usual 'damn' sprinkled here or there.

" _Fuck_ yes. Good god, Dante, sometimes I think you have no idea the things you do to me."

The smile widened. "Just checking."

They lay together in comfortable silence, listening to the rain patter down onto the rooftops and into the Venice streets. Zhalia absentmindedly toyed with Dante's auburn hair, gently running her nails over his scalp as the elite Seeker drizzled nonsensical patterns across her toned stomach with light fingertips. Their mornings usually started at five, but the rain had given them an excuse to skip their morning rooftop scouting run in favor of sleeping in. At least, they had _intended_ to sleep in.

"Do we have to get up?" Zhalia reached over and smacked their alarm clock off the bedside table as it alerted them to their eight AM wake up time. It landed with a crash that didn't even disturb her partner, too engrossed in exploring the former spy's body as if he had never laid eyes on it before. "...I'll fix that later."

"We have to get up eventually." Dante muttered, tracing down the delicate scars that graced his girlfriend's ribs. He had a near identical set on his own side, a memory of his first encounter with a Redcap. "We should probably shower."

Zhalia huffed, annoyed with his answer. "We don't have to shower if there's going to be a round two, you know."

Dante locked eyes with her, pupils nearly blown with desire, and Zhalia couldn't help the smirk that edged at the corner of her mouth. His hair was still wild, lips flushed and bruised, and his shoulders were littered with bite marks ranging from the barest of indents to angry red welts. All in all he looked thoroughly fucked, and it just added to the renewed heat pooling in her belly.

She knew her neck was in a similar state compared to his shoulders. She could feel the marks pulsing with each heartbeat, and found herself wondering if Dante thought she looked as worked over as he did. She wondered if he liked what he saw.

If the look he was giving her was any indication, she'd say yes.

"Besides," Zhalia waved a hand in a casual gesture of dismissal. After seeing him in such a state she _really_ didn't want to get up now. "I wasn't kidding about not being able to walk. You'd have to carry me to the shower. And forget standing for it."

Dante was suddenly over her, his knee between her legs and his lips sucking eagerly below her ear. "Oh, you don't need to worry about standing." He growled, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves to his partner's core.

"Really?" Zhalia couldn't manage much else of a response, and let out an uncharacteristic squeak when Dante swept her into his arms and began walking to the master bathroom.

"Don't need to worry about showering either." Dante confirmed in a low rumble.

Zhalia laughed and threw her arms around his neck as he kicked the bathroom door shut behind them. " _I fucking love lazy mornings!_ "

* * *

 **Looking Back, pt. 1**

Looking back, Dante couldn't really put his finger on when he knew there was something off about Zhalia.

It wasn't that she was a lone wolf operative. He had met plenty of agents who came under that name. It wasn't her refusal to share anything beyond professional pleasantries on their first few missions.

It was never something he could pin down or name. But _something_ always told him that the woman beside him needed guiding to the right path. And while that nagging little something told him that trusting her could be his undoing, another part of him whispered that _not_ trusting her would be his end.

Oh, he knew by the time they were in Ireland, of course. His little something was keen to notice her unease in a family home. Her hesitation at Newgrange and her use of the Deadcalm bug only solidified his suspicions.

Don't even get him started on _Egypt_. He didn't even need to go there.

And through it all, despite all the signs and the warnings, somehow he _knew_ that she would never harm him.

He just had to trust her. And he had to let her know that he did.

And in the end…it all worked out.


	11. Aftermath (Interruptions, pt 2)

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _This is part 2 of my M rated SnT (I'm getting soooo lazy typing that out. tied in 'Interruptions.' It can be read as a suggestive high T standalone without the first part, or can be read as written as a part two. Since it isn't a full M for this part, I figured what the hell, might as well post it here too since it's kinda funny._

 _Never tried writing in this style before but figured it would be a fun way to branch out. This chapter is pretty much heavy T/low M due to swearing and vulgarity in general. Prepare for a dread 'texting' chapter!_

 _Oh and since I forgot about him, Cherit ditched classes and decided to wander around Venice again. Because first day lectures are soooooo boring for 10,000 year old Titans._

 _PS– Props to anyone who gets the little reference for what Zhalia is stored under in Dante's contacts.)_

* * *

 **Interruptions**

 _ **Part 2:**_

 _ **Aftermath**_

Lok finally stopped running when he reached the outer buildings of the Academy. Part of him was worried that Zhalia had sent Gareon after him, and he checked his surroundings as he pulled out his phone.

He had an hour for lunch, so he still had half an hour left. Not long enough to raid Sophie's townhouse for food, but definitely long enough to see if he could keep from getting his liver ripped out tonight.

He sent a quick text to his girlfriend, hoping that she wasn't in the library with her phone off.

Across campus, Sophie put down her sandwich and pulled her phone out of her pocket at its telltale buzz.

 **From: Lok the Stunningly Handsome Hero**

 _Hey could I mayB stay over your place tonite?_

Sophie frowned slightly, and not just because Lok had managed to unlock her phone and change his contact name _again_. Despite their growing relationship, Lok rarely stayed over at her townhouse, even in a separate room, unless Dante's house was trashed in an attack. LeBlanche and Santiago tended to shoo him out the door with brooms and bo staffs if they caught wind of it.

 **From: Princess Sophie**

 _I'm not against it, but why? Is everything okay at Dante's?_

Lok groaned and slid down the wall to sit heavily with his backpack in his lap. He _really_ didn't want to be caught by his mentors telling anyone what he saw. Then again, if he didn't have a fully LeBlanche proof reason to spend the night he'd probably be picking broom straw out of his hair and sleeping on Dante's roof.

He took a breath and picked his words carefully.

 **From: Lok the Stunningly Handsome Hero**

 _I might_ _have interrupted somthng when I went to get my lunch frm Dante's. And I don't want my obituary read 'killed by Venomhand toxins after being punched into local canal.'_

Sophie's frown deepened. What on earth was that boy talking about?

 **From: Princess Sophie**

 _Lok, you're not making any sense._

A hollow ' _thunkthunkthunk_ ' sounded in the young Seeker's ears as he gently whacked the back of his head against the bricks behind him. And people said _he_ was clueless when it came to these things.

Okay, well, yeah, he kinda was, but he _was_ starting to learn. Having his first girlfriend and living around Zhalia's vulgar, no holds barred potty mouth was taking care of that.

No way around it though. Lok couldn't help the wince as he hit send.

 **From: Lok the Stunningly Handsome Hero**

 _I walked in on D and Z almost having sex on the wall next to the door, okay? I used Farslip to get in b/c I thought the spare key was lost and I think Z'll try to kill me if I show up tonite._

Sophie nearly choked on her most recent bite of sandwich. Well _that_ was a good reason to avoid Dante's place today.

In one of the many auditorium style classrooms, Den deftly slipped his phone from the side pocket of his cargos and slid it onto his knee. The damn thing had been buzzing like crazy. He was about to tell Lok off for trying to get him caught texting on his first day when he saw the ongoing conversation.

 _No. Way._

The elder twin shoved his phone back in his pocket and jabbed Harrison in the ribs with an elbow as he quickly started gathering his belongings. "Dude, get your stuff." He hissed, ignoring his brother's quiet protests. The class was nearly over anyway and since it was history he figured they could afford to miss the childish review lecture on Greek mythos. They were _Seekers_ for chrissake; they knew that stuff by heart.

"Uh, sorry, sister says there's a family emergency." Den hurriedly lied to the professor's ugly glare. "Sorry, 'scuse us, just going to slip by you here…." He grabbed Harrison's arm and practically dragged him from the room and around the corner.

"Den, what's wrong?" Harrison dug his heels in when Den tried to take him further down the outdoor hall and settled for being steered into an alcove. "Is Zhalia okay?"

He couldn't help it anymore. Den pushed his phone into his brother's hands and doubled over laughing. Harrison's eyes got wider and wider as he scrolled through the messages, jaw nearly dropping to the cobbled ground.

" _Dude!_ "

Den wiped tears from his eyes. "I know, right?" He stifled another round of giggles and gestured for his phone. "Here, wait, I don't think he even– Ah, god this is just too much."

 **From: Den the Sass Master**

 _Nice going Lok. Did they let u get ur lunch? XD_

Lok raised an eyebrow when Den texted him. How did _he_ know he had forgotten his lunch?

 **From: Den Fears (Older Twin)**

 _Nice going Lok. Did they let u get ur lunch? XD_

Sophie did a double take as well. Den hadn't been in their chat. A nagging suspicion took shape in her mind, but she ignored it.

Meanwhile, Lok typed out a quick reply, too disturbed to dwell on the Fears boys butting in.

 **From: Blondie McHeropants**

 _Uh… no?_

"Oh my god, he has _no clue!_ " Harrison joined his brother in laugher, reading the response over his shoulder. "Zee is going to kill him!"

"I can't hold it back anymore, once he gets it _he'll_ be the one freaking out." Den rolled up his sleeves and extravagantly typed out what would be the second most horrifying revelation of Lok's day.

 **From: Den the Sass Master**

 _Dude ur sending these in the TEAM chat. Dante and Zee r getting them 2_

 _Tho theyre prob 2 busy 2 notice rn. XDDD_

"WHAT?!" Lok dropped his phone in horror, gripping the sides of his head. "No no no no no! I'm so dead!"

 **From: Lok the Stunningly Handsome Hero**

 _Sophie! Tell mum and Cathy I love them. And tell Zhalia to kill me in a fancy way so my obit is true to someone of my heroic accomplishments._

Sophie rolled her eyes and started collecting her things for her next class.

 **From: Princess Sophie**

 _You're such a drama queen._

 _I'll tell her to do it with a paperclip just for that._

Lok whimpered, putting his head in his hands. Today was _not_ his day.

* * *

A few hours later Zhalia rolled over in Dante's bed and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. It was past time the twins were supposed to message her about their first day at the prep school.

Instead she found some rather interesting texts in the team group chat.

"Hey, Dante?" She called out. The elite Seeker appeared at the door to the master bathroom, toweling off his hair. "Can I kill Lok with a paperclip?"

Dante paused, considering the boy's accomplishments as a Seeker and how they weighted against nearly costing him the best sex of his life so far. It was a hard choice. "…No?"

His partner lifted her phone for him to see. "Sophie said I should kill him with a paperclip." She lowered it again to continue reading. "I mean, it's totally possible. Just messy. Cleanup is tough." She finished typing out a message and smirked as Dante sat beside her on the bed. "Check your phone. Things have gotten weird while we were busy."

Curious, Dante complied just as her message went through to his phone.

 **From: The Woman**

 _Just so you all are aware, yes, we got your messages._

 _Also, Lok has a new contact name. Say hi to Cockblock Lok and tell him I won't kill him because Dante reminded me that not killing you guys is why I'm here. In his bed. Very satisfied. ;}_

At Sophie's townhouse, the Casterwill heiress checked her phone and let out a giggle, hand flying to her mouth as she saw the text from 'ZM (Icy Bitch).' She had to hand it to the former spy, she could be _very_ creative if the situation called for it.

Harrison looked up from his calculus syllabus at the sound of Sophie's laughter. He was trying to carefully forge Zhalia's signature in pencil to avoid a fiasco like Lok's by asking her to sign it, and put two and two together when he saw Sophie looking at her phone. He whipped his phone out and yelled, "Hey bro! Lok! I think Zee just texted back!"

Sure enough, a message from the contact 'Zee Badass' had sprung up in his team chat.

Den's raucous laughter erupted from the kitchen. "Nice move, _Cockblock!_ " This was followed by a sharp smacking sound as Santiago threw a broken bit of bo staff at the teen for using such language in front of LeBlanche of all people. "Ow! Hey, Soph, call your ninja off! _Ow!_ Santiago, I'll sic my sister on you! _OW!_ Cut it out, jeez!"

Lok's yell could be heard throughout the massive home as he read the text.

" _OH, COME ON!"_


	12. Poetry

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Can I get a holla for some OoC content, anyone?)_

* * *

 **Poetry**

"Fine, another one then." Sophie was sitting sideways in one of the jet's seats, legs dangling down the side.

Across from her, Dante steepled his fingers and tapped them to his lips, eyes narrow with focus. "Score is three for you, two for me, and two for Cherit if he rejoins us. I'm not going to let you win, Miss Casterwill."

They were returning from a surprisingly difficult mission in the French countryside. A ragtag group of newly awakened Seekers had been running amok with poorly controlled Titans, tearing up a previously peaceful village.

The scrappy leader of the gang had, inexplicably, managed to evade the Huntik Team long enough to set up a clever ambush involving the recruited youth of the town throwing rubble down into the tight winding streets. Dante had been clocked in the head by a well aimed stone, and despite having used Everfight was still under the effects of a mild concussion.

Oddly enough, the concussion seemed to make him… _giddy._ Zhalia had to steer him away from the plane's controls when he practically pounced on them. The Foundation's top agent had whined like a child until Sophie and Cherit came up with an impromptu game to keep his attention while first Zhalia and Lok, then Den and Lok safely flew the plane.

Sophie laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. The game had started out as an awkwardly juvenile distraction, but now it was kind of fun. "We'll see, Dante. Alright, try this one on for size:

' _Tell physic of her boldness;_

 _Tell skill it is prevention;_

 _Tell charity of coldness;_

 _Tell law it is contention;_

 _And as they do reply,_

 _So give them still the lie.'_

Author andtitle. Best _that_!"

From where she was curled up with her back against Dante's side, Zhalia raised her eyebrows despite keeping her eyes closed. She had also taken a rock to the head while protecting the unprepared Den, and a dislocated collarbone when five of the younger civilian recruits had literally dog-piled her to keep her from using powers. Luckily, the only after effects she was suffering after Den was kind enough to use Everfight on her was some residual light sensitivity and soreness. "Shit. I know that one."

" _No!_ Don't help him!" Sophie pointed at the former spy in an accusing manner. "No audience participation!"

"Nerds. The both of you."

Dante gently patted his girlfriend's head as he contemplated the recited poem. Likely a societal commentary…song-like structure….

The detective snapped his fingers, his still scrambled mind flashing back to Metz reading him Seeker–written poetry in bed when he was struck with pneumonia as a child. "Wait! Metz read me this one way back. Walter Raleigh."

"Aaannnd?" Sophie teased. He wouldn't get the point without the title.

"It's _The Lie,_ isn't it? It has to be."

Sophie groaned, throwing her head back in exasperation. Who knew taking a rock upside the skull would make him _better_ at this. "Ugh! Yes, yes, fine. Point to you. Your turn."

"Author and title. Hmm…" Dante leaned back as he mentally scanned his memory for scraps of poetry he had been forced to memorize due to their importance on some missions. His movement forced Zhalia to shift positions, and her grumbling made him smile until she jabbed him with an elbow. "Oof. Sorry." She didn't answer, just shook her head against his shoulder and tucked herself deeper into the corner of her seat. "Okay, I think I have one.

' _Hence, loathed Melancholy,_

 _Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born_

 _In stygian cave forlon_

' _Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks and sights unholy!'_

The author's easy. But can you guess the name?"

Dante shot Sophie a victorious smile. The Titan associated with this particular poem had long been found before her time and was often overlooked.

The Casterwill heiress closed her eyes, lips moving soundlessly as she repeated the verse to herself. It took only a few seconds for her to name the poet as John Milton, but a full two minutes passed before she cautiously guessed, " _L'Allegro_?"

"…Point to you." Sophie laughed at Dante's grudging admission and raised her hands above her head in a seated victory dance. "Hey, there's still plenty of time for me to take the lead. Don't get cocky."

Before the girl could respond, another voice cut her off. "I've got one."

Both Dante and Sophie turned their heads to look at their blue haired teammate with barely concealed surprise. Zhalia wasn't one who dove into the finer nuances of the historic literature surrounding Titans and past Seekers. Hell, she had never even mentioned any interest in poetry at all, even when they used poem scraps as clues during missions.

"Alright." Sophie had a competitive edge to her voice, sitting up straight in her seat and leaning towards the former spy. "We'll deal you in so to speak. Three way poetry battle."

Zhalia scoffed slightly. "I have a better idea. You two obviously have studied the same poets and the same scripts. It's stupid to have you two quizzing each other on what you both will obviously know. You aren't getting anywhere.

"So _I'll_ be the one supplying the verses. Whoever can guess the correct poet and title gets points. If neither of you can guess it, I get a point."

Sophie's eyes narrowed. Dante leaned back even further, knowing better to get between the two. Despite being on much better terms than when they first met, Sophie and Zhalia still managed to harbor deeply buried urges to best the other in the strangest of places. "Let's go, then."

Zhalia flashed a devious grin of sharp teeth. "I'll start you off easy. If you can guess the author and name the title, point to you. Two verses, one poem.

' _With an host of furious fancies,_

 _Whereof I am commander,_

 _With a burning spear_

 _And a horse of air_

 _To the wilderness I wander;_

 _By a knight of ghosts and shadows_

 _I summoned am to tourney_

 _Ten leagues beyond_

 _The wide world's end–_

 _Methinks it is no journey.'_

Take your time. I know being challenged by an uneducated street rat can be a little daunting, O' great Casterwill princess."

Sophie barked a laugh. "Oh, please. You might have been raised in the street but we all know you're far from being truly uneducated."

Dante mulled over the recited verses, his mind whirling. The poem was definitely familiar, but he couldn't place what Titan it was associated with. Despite her return remark, Sophie seemed similarly puzzled, tilting her head this way and that as she tried different inflections on the words.

"Oh, that's a good one, Zhalia!" Cherit fluttered into cabin from the cockpit, landing on the table that sat in the middle of the three Seekers. "I remember that one. Ah, such a funny little ditty."

Zhalia put a slender finger to her lips. "Don't give them any hints, Cherit." The little Titan gave her a thumbs up and mimed zipping his mouth shut. "Come on, it's a classic. Dante I would understand not knowing it– it's not an insult, hot stuff, it's just a strange poem that I'm not surprised Metz would have kept from you– but you read enough to pick up on something like this, Sophie."

The Casterwill scrunched up her face in concentration, fingers digging into her scalp. "I _know_ I've heard it. But I can't remember an author…" Suddenly she sat bolt up right and snapped her fingers in realization. "That's it! There _is_ no author! It's an early anonymous work!"

At her epiphany Dante felt the gears of his mind turning again, chasing down the oft–unsourced ballads and songs of the fifteenth and sixteenth century. It _had_ to be from that time period. The grammar and style both fit.

Zhalia gave a lazy 'get on with it' gesture, wrist turning smoothly. "Go on…. I'll give you half a point if Dante gets the title before you."

Nearly frantic now, Sophie screwed her eyes shut. It was like watching the class genius get their first B on a pop quiz in slow motion. She didn't dare risk Dante beating her to the punch, and hesitantly stuttered, "The… _The Song of the Insane_?"

Zhalia hissed in mock sympathy. "Ooooh, sorry. Close, but not what we're looking for."

Out of nowhere Dante leapt from his seat, sending his girlfriend tumbling into the empty space he had previously occupied. " _Mad Song_! Circa fifteen hundred, also know as _Tom o'Bedlam's Song_ and _The Mad Song of Tom o'Bedlam_!"

Sophie's jaw practically hit the floor. Zhalia laughed at the entire spectacle, picking herself up from where she had fallen onto Dante's seat and clapping slowly. "Oh, _bra-VO,_ hot stuff. But you only get half a point, because Sophie's _Song of the Insane_ and unsourced bit did most of the work." The former spy gestured extravagantly to Cherit, half bowing to him as she announced, "And the Titan connection, from our dear little friend?"

Cherit did an amusing dance and flared his wings in glee. "It's the poem most often associated with Kilthane!"

"Oh, for the love of–! Seriously?!" Sophie groaned and covered her face with her hands. "No wonder I didn't get it! It's a dark Titan poem."

"You need to branch out, Soph." Zhalia pulled Dante back into his seat so she could lean against him, perfectly comfortable once again. He shouldn't move around too much until his jumbled brain settled. "Either of you up for another round?"

"We _do_ have another three hours in the air." Dante tilted his head to look down at his partner. "And your poems seem to be lasting longer than the ones we were using."

Sophie gripped her armrests with renewed conviction. There was fire in her eyes. Dante was a formidable opponent, even in his befuddled state, and it was practically an honor to be bested by him. But the Casterwill refused to be shown up by her former rival. "You're on, Zhalia!"

The former spy kicked her boots up onto the table, appearing confident and relaxed while adding minor insult to Sophie's mental injury. Cherit wasted no time in settling against her ankles, using them as a personal headrest and a fine place to enjoy the goings on. "I have a few more. This one isn't paired to a Titan, so you'll get no hints from the Seeker world."

"You memorized a poem without being prompted by a mission?" Sophie put her hands to her cheeks in mock surprise. Boots on the table were an obvious affront that she wouldn't let slide. "Zhalia, I'm _impressed!_ "

Zhalia let out a sharp ' _Tch!_ ' at her comment and jabbed a warning finger in her direction. "Hey, watch it. In case you've forgotten, whenever I wasn't on the street for training or on missions I spent my teens _living_ _under a damn bookstore._ There's only so many books on science and torture that you can read before you start seeing the same information with different wording all over the place." Sophie didn't have a witty response to that. Hell, even Dante had forgotten that Klaus's lab had been covered by a legitimate bookshop.

"Like I was saying. Author, title, no Seeker or Titan association. Little known poet, especially in Europe. Have fun with it.

' _For honest treatment seek the thief;_

 _For truth consult the liar;_

 _Court pleasure in the halls of grief;_

 _Find smoothness on a briar…._

 _The world's a curious riddle thrown_

 _Water-wise from heaven's cup;_

 _The souls we think are hurtling down_

 _Perhaps are climbing up.'_

Not bad for something I memorized when I was probably fourteen. Still got it."

From the cockpit Den's excited voice rang out. " _Holy shit, Zee, that was so inspirational!_ " Oddly enough it wasn't tinged with his usual sarcasm.

Sophie and Dante both exchanged glances. They could tell from a single look that they _both_ were drawing equal blanks. They struggled with it in silence for what felt like an hour, until finally Dante looked down at the woman snuggled against his side.

"…You win."

Zhalia threw her hands up, pumping her fists in triumph as she laughed at Sophie's sour expression. " _Ik geef mijn overwinning aan alle straatkinderen!_ "

" _Jazeker, zuster!_ " Den yelled back.

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Honestly I just wanted to put some poetry in this. And come on. Klaus's bookshop couldn't have been TOTALLY filled with torture and science books. Some others had to have snuck in there._

 _For extra coverage of my arse, Dante and Sophie's poems, while already titled and author sourced in-text, were pulled from **"The Albatross Book of Living Verse, English and American Poetry from the Thirteenth Century to the Present Day" edited by Louis Untermeyer.** It's one of the many books my Scottish grandfather, may he rest in wild lawyer argumentative type peace, gave my mother before his passing. It's very old and it's a fantastic book to have around._

 _Final poem is_ _ **'**_ **More than a Fool's Song** _ **' by Countee Cullen**_ _. It's the first poem I memorized in high school and it's stuck with me for over seven years. Cullen is one of my favorites and has some really sassy poems. I was going to have Zhalia shoot '_ **For a Mouthy Woman** _' at Sophie but ran out of patience._

 _Cheers you lot!)_

Translations:

Z: "I give my victory to all street kids!"

Den: "Hell yes, sister!"

Of course, it's all google translated Dutch, so I'm probably way off.


	13. Who Am I? pt 1

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Bashed this out while watching Great British Baking Show and repeating the song Ra Ra Rasputin by Boney M. I made myself a mean angel food cake with mandarin orange curd last night at like…10 pm or something. Three fourths of it is gone already in less than 24 hours and I'm the only one in the house with the opposable thumbs needed to get to it. It's been a very lazy day…._

 _I was_ so _lazy that I didn't reference the time period this fic takes place in. This is probably a month or so after the Spiral War. So everyone is still sort of settling in to being back together or in the Foundation for the first time, but they've all already got an easy camaraderie going after going through that crazy shit at the end of Season 2._

 _And Cherit's asleep. Because his forehead isn't big enough for a card, horns be damned.)_

* * *

 **Who am I? pt 1**

"Am I aaaaaaa…world leader?" Lok rapped his knuckles on the coffee table as he searched his mind for a question.

"No." Sophie scribbled down his question and marked an X next to it. She was taking her role as official score keeper quite seriously. "But you _are_ featured on BBC frequently." The name 'Simo Häyhä' was in sharp green letters, characteristic of Zhalia's hand, on a scrap of marked up schematic paper and taped to the Casterwill's forehead with a piece of electrical tape.

Lok groaned. "Sophhiiiiie, you know I don't watch channels with news programs on them! It reminds me of Suits, and it makes my brain hurt!"

The rest of the team grinned slightly. The name 'Paul Hollywood' rarely appeared in news broadcasts, but the baker was often seen on the TVs in Sophie's townhouse while LeBlanche cooked meals. Now, however, the name was written in Sophie's elegant script and stuck to Lok's forehead on a pink sticky note.

The power had accidently been cut to the entire city of Venice during a routine maintenance project. And _cut_ was used quite literally. A group of bumbling work experience students had managed to slice clean through the main power line from the power company to the city, which in turn back surged and blew several massive transformers.

It was the first day of a predicted many in total blackout, but the Huntik team was making the most of getting a chance to spend time together.

In fact, Dante and Zhalia seemed _so_ overjoyed by the prospect of having all four of the teens and Cherit crowded into Dante's house for several days straight that they had broken out the alcohol and liberally consumed a bottle of spirits each by nightfall. The teens were perfectly fine with this, as it _did_ make both adults a little more lenient and open on a variety of topics from early Seeker days to political assassinations.

And the booze also made them open to playing games like _Who Am I?_ late into the night.

"My turn!" Den adjusted the headband that he was using to keep his folded square of notebook paper in place on his forehead. "Am I from Europe?"

Lok tried and failed to suppress his cheeky grin. He was loving the name he had chosen for the elder twin. "No. And Europe is very thankful for that."

"Come on! That's not a hint!"

Zhalia set her highball glass down on the floor next to the armchair she had claimed. "It really is though. We're all very relieved with that one's origins being far away from us."

Den pouted. The name 'Donald Trump' being plastered across his forehead in Lok's surprisingly neat handwriting fit with the look perfectly. "Alright, alright. Your turn, _zus_."

The former spy turned her attention to Harrison, Dante's chosen name of 'Vlad Tepes' emblazoned on the back of one of the detective's business cards and taped to his forehead. "Am I dead?"

"Yes and no." The scrawny boy tossed back the final bite of his third sandwich in the past hour. After seeing in his Foundation physical that he was in the second to lowest weight percentile for his height and age, no one on the team ever denied Harrison extra food. "It's…complicated."

Zhalia scowled. "I won't bitch about that being against the rules, but it's against the rules." She blindly reached down and reclaimed her drink, taking a healthy sip. "Alright, I'm doing that lightning round thing. I think I got who I am."

"This'll be good." Dante chuckled. He was at corner of the couch, having dragged Zhalia's armchair closer to him a few rounds earlier. Harrison's choice of name had thoroughly amused him, and he gave the younger twin a nod of approval. "Go for it."

Harrison leaned forward on his bony knees as Zhalia launched off the three round event. "Am I a historical figure?"

"Yes. You'll go down in history for sure."

"Considered a womanizer?"

"Yes, but you're with a powerful woman that you _really_ wouldn't want to cheat on."

"Plenty of enemies?"

"Oh yeah. Tons."

Zhalia's eyes narrowed. Dead _and_ alive, powerful enough to have enemies, historical figure, lots of ladies.

Christ, it was a good thing that stupid song was stuck in her head.

"…Rasputin."

The collected teens laughed, Harrison looking extremely amused at her answer. Dante just shook his head, a smirk playing at his lips. "That guy's been on your brain since I played the song in the car, huh?" The elite Seeker chuckled, taking a hit from his beer bottle.

"Oh come on! It all fits!" Zhalia poked her partner in the center of his forehead, right on the name 'Neymar the Dive-a' that Den had picked. "But yes, you're right."

Harrison stifled his giggles enough to ask, "Do…do you want the final hint before we tell you?"

"Fine. Gimme the hint, _kleine broer._ "

"You, personally, Zhalia, would _hate_ to be contracted on a hit against them."

In the process of throwing her arms up, Zhalia missed Dante's surprised snort at the choice of hint. "That _still_ matches Rasputin! I give up!" Den clapped his brother on the back as Sophie added another point under Harrison's name.

The former spy peeled her sticky note off her forehead as Harrison revealed the name. "It's Dante. I can't believe you didn't guess him!"

It got a little quiet in the living room when Zhalia raised her eyebrow and turned to look at her partner. "Well… this is awkward."

"…It was a good choice, though right?" Harrison sounded a bit worried. He hadn't wanted to offend his adopted sister with his name choice.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah it is." Zhalia gave her younger charge a little twisted grin. "Except your hint was off. I totally took a hit on this guy. I nearly got him too."

Den and Harrison stared at the two adults, dumbfounded at the casual admission.

"And we're very glad you did." Lok smiled broadly, wincing when Sophie smacked him on the shoulder with the back of her hand. "Ow! Well, she wouldn't have been on the team at all if she hadn't! And without her, we wouldn't have been able to bring Den and Harrison into the Foundation either! Or find that Huntik Nexus to talk to my dad, or find the Spiral Mark, or–"

"I get it, my failed murder quest was a good thing and I'm very appreciated." Zhalia smirked. "What, no input from you, Sophie? I'm hurt."

The Casterwill heiress gave her streetwise teammate a flat look. "To be totally honest, Zhalia, all I'm remembering right now is you punching me in the bloody chest to knock me out at Vlad's castle."

Zhalia nearly snorted her drink out her nose when she heard that remark, coughing and laughing. "Oh right, I punched you in the tit! Ha! Sorry about that. Good fight though, good fight."

"You guys…" Den had to physically aid his mouth in closing, still confused and shocked at the current conversation.

"Are _so_ messed up." Harrison finished with wide eyes.

Dante just laughed.

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _I honestly can't remember if it looked like Zhalia punched Sophie in the boob at Vlad's castle or when they briefly fought at the Professor's place. Either way the image stuck with me as a 'pffffffffft, whaaaaaat?' moment for years._

 _Please don't pull any political affiliation stuff from this. I try to keep politics out of my writing but with current events and summits and whatnot I couldn't resist._

 _Cheers you lot!)_


	14. Killer, pt 1

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Heavy T in this one for mentions of torture injuries and Zhalia straight up killing some people. This has been in my head for a little while. It's_ not _a DxZ romance drabble, it's Zhalia doing what she did best in the Organization in response to someone messing with the Fears Twins. Sometimes you just can't shake those killer instincts._

 _This will be a two part drabble, maaaaaaybe three, and the second part will have even more dead bad guys. I'm terrible at writing fight scenes, so I'll try to keep them as brief as possible. There will also be a bit of 'can you forgive me?' DxZ at the end of it, so some murder!Fluff for you lot._

 _Dragging in more expendable rogue Seeker groups, which we will now officially name '#ShamelessPlotDevice.' Don't ask me for a setting, because I've got no idea where they are. Jersey Shore? Abandoned Russian town? Area 51? Am I too drunk to write this A/N?_

 _This one's kinda dark, guys. Poor Fears boys.)_

* * *

 **Killer, pt 1**

They found the twins after only eight hours.

But eight hours in the hands of these bastards was too long.

Den looked up blearily through swollen eyes. He could hear fighting down the hall, powers bouncing off the walls and Titans trading blows. "Hey, bro…sounds like the cavalry's here." The elder twin shifted painfully, nudging Harrison in the back as best he could with fingers nearly numb from tied wrists. "Hear that?"

Harrison only groaned. At least he was still conscious enough to hear him.

The guys who had spent six hours trying to beat answers out of them had been stupid, but effective. Stupid for several reasons, including asking why Vigilante and Jericho wouldn't bond with them and beating the twins for their honest (though admittedly snarky) answers, but effective because they had _really_ beaten the hell out of them for it.

Harrison had a compound break on his left tibia and a heavily bleeding gash on his scalp that still dripped blood on Den's shoulder hours later. His breathing was shaky and stuttering, not helped by a nose clogged with blood and crushed cartilage. Den had tried to draw the rogue Seeker's attention to take some of the heat away from his younger twin, and it had earned him his own set of broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and two black eyes. They were covered in countless bruises and scrapes. Being thrown from a moving bullet train would have felt better.

The men had given up about an hour ago, cursing and swearing that they would just lure the rest of the Team to them by giving up the boys.

Their leader, a man wearing obnoxious rings that declared him a 'Jawbreaker' and an earing made from a human tooth, had made his appearance then. He stuck a note demanding the Team send a single representative to their warehouse to give up all their strongest Titans or face similar treatment on the blade of a large folding knife.

And then embedded and ground that knife into Den's shoulder.

Den winced as the door suddenly exploded outward, spinning shards of metal and wood into the hall.

"Hey guys." The boy mumbled, lifting his head a bit. He could just barely make out Dante crouching in front of him, Zhalia not a split second behind. "'Bout time, huh? Harrison's…Harrison's worse off, check on…on him…."

Den didn't remember anything after that.

Dante's blood boiled at the injuries that the twins were covered in. Sophie and Lok were soon in the room, doing their best to heal anything life threatening while the two adults of the Team dealt with the tricky task of removing the knife in Den's shoulder.

Zhalia had seen it first, and had quickly set a Nerveblock on the area to make the removal easier. With her handful of tiered healing and stabilizing spells and Dante's steady hand and frequent use of Everheal, they managed to slide the blade free with minimal blood loss.

"Get them somewhere safe." Zhalia closed the folding knife and clenched it in her fist. With the knife out and Dante's Everheal already repairing the internal damage it had wrought, Den was no longer in immediate danger. "Don't follow me."

Dante tore his eyes from Den's battered frame. Zhalia was standing beside him, giving him a moment to understand that she was leaving. "We need you here."

"No, you really don't." Her voice was disturbingly flat and cold. "I'm useless at healing. I'll meet you at the Foundation hospital. Take care of them." The elite Seeker searched his partner's face. There was absolutely no emotion, but the fist that held the knife was so tight her fingers were turning white. Lok and Sophie had stopped their treatment in shock, the woman's behavior so against her usual fierce protectiveness of the Fears Twins. "Don't follow."

And then she was just…gone.

* * *

Zhalia leapt lightly to the roof of the next warehouse, bare feet making only the slightest sound. Her boots and socks were wrapped in a plastic bag scavenged from a nearby dumpster and tied in the small of her back to prevent it from swinging and banging against her leg.

Below her, two of the low ranking rogue Seekers were milling around at the mouth of the alleyway between their base and an old lumber storage unit. They looked bored, amulets tucked into pockets instead of hanging around their necks or strapped to their wrists in preparation for combat.

Even from her perch, Zhalia could see that one of them, a man much to old to be sporting Justin Bieber's early hairstyle, had scuffed up and bloody knuckles. The marks were fresh, the pink inflammation around them and shiny, half dried scabs placing them at only hours old.

They were marks of a person who had recently been beating on another.

Suspicions confirmed, Zhalia crouched down and observed the building's fortifications, in no rush whatsoever. This was definitely the place indicated in the note she had taken.

Like many of the newly awakened Seeker groups popping up after the Spiral War, this lot seemed to have already considered themselves a gang in the loosest form of the word before finding their amulets. And again like the others, their development of Seeker powers had led them to believe they were top shit in an area that could easily be compared to a septic tank.

At least a few of them were clever, though only just. Zhalia noted the use of leftover lumber beams to funnel approaching people one by one into the alleyway and into the clear sight of the obvious guard stations by the door at the far end. There were scrap boards over the high windows and a collection of empty cans strung on the door itself to alert the occupants of anyone coming inside unannounced.

The former spy could have laughed at all of these pitiful defenses. Wasted potential. The boarded windows prevented them from seeing any enemies, and the can trap was easily silenced by just muffling and removing the cans. Even the funnel, something Zhalia had set up multiple times in her alleyway shelters in her youth, was useless. The gang members set to guard the door were wandering around the _outside_ of the funnel, giving her a full one-eighty degrees of possible attack angles instead of the straight on corridor she would have been forced to take had they stayed at their posts.

Her eyes narrowed. They were standing pretty close together as well, the Bieber fan leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette while his partner stood cattycorner to him not two feet away.

The second rogue looked slight and small for his twenties, his cargo pants cinched tight at his narrow hips. Zhalia would have to thank him for being kind enough to even supply her with a belt.

If it were any other situation, Zhalia would feel some apprehension at what she was about to do. She had made a promise to Dante that she wouldn't kill again unless absolutely necessary, a promise she had kept up until this point.

But _no one_ hurt with her little brothers so badly without paying for it.

She didn't even have a second thought when she leapt down from the roof.

The man against the wall only had time to jerk and drop his cigarette in surprise before Zhalia seized his swoop cut Bieber bangs and yanked his head first forward then slammed it back in one viciously sharp motion. His skull made a dull crack when it hit the brick and he slumped down the wall in a heap. His skinny partner managed to open his mouth and let out the start of a yelp, but was silenced to a choked gurgle when a hand shot out and snapped his hyoid with a well placed strike delivered with the inside wedge of Zhalia's thumb and forefinger.

She ended what would have been a slow death with a final blow to his temple, using the end of the folded knife she still clenched in her fist.

After her time with the Foundation, Zhalia figured she should have been disturbed by how easily she slipped back into her old instincts. But the image of Den and Harrison slumped over in that trash heap of a room with blood all over their clothes chased away the glimmer of doubt and disgust.

She didn't _like_ killing. It wasn't her fault she was so damn good at it. If killing these fuckwits would keep them from hurting others, keep Den and Harrison from looking over their shoulders wondering if they'd come back, she was fine with putting her talent to good use.

As the last twitches stopped, Zhalia crouched down and began stripping the smaller of the two bodies of his cargos. The pants and belt were neatly set aside, along with a scavenged shoelace. Once finished with her grim task the former spy brushed off her hands and stripped off her own clothes, leaving her clad only in her undergarments until she redressed in the pants. His shirt was too large, even for him, and she wouldn't risk the baggy material getting in her way. Sports bra would have to do.

She calmly rolled up her jeans and shirts and tucked them into the bag with her boots. She'd keep her amulet pouch with her, tied tightly to the dead gang member's belt, and safely stashed the plastic wrapped bundle in the center of one of the scattered lumber piles.

Then, calm as you please, Zhalia tied her dark hair into a tight, low bun with the shoelace, disarmed the can trap with barely a whisper of sound, hooked her thumbs into the pockets of her stolen cargo pants, and sauntered into the rogue Seeker's warehouse like she owned the fucking place.

Anyone who saw her would be wise to run. Not that it would do them any good.

Because on this day, this very _unlucky_ day for her enemies, Zhalia Moon was picking up the mantle of a cold-blooded killer again for a very warm-blooded reason.

These shitheads fucked with the wrong family.

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _'Stripping bodies is wrong!' Yeah, well, Zhal's got her reasons. Years of doing this has let her perfect this to a fine art._

 _Looking back, I'm wondering to myself if the throat strike on the second guy could have actually been an instantly lethal blow. There's a nerve in the neck known as the vagus nerve, running down both sides. I know a well-placed knuckle punch to it can, if powerful enough and hit right, instantly kill someone. A lighter regular punch can cause you to black out…._

 _Uuuuugh, whatever. Zhalia knows what she's doing. Reading medical journals and studying anatomy and Klaus's torture lessons are great for this sorta thing, ya know? She got it. She don't need me mucking it up._

 _Cheers you lot. Part two out tomorrow night!_

 _Or earlier. Probably earlier. Just be on the lookout!)_


	15. Killer, pt 2

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Ugh. This part's written badly. The last part's even_ worse _. Not only that, but the A/N at the start of the next one is just…*_ somehow manages to mime projectile word vomit _.* Yeah, that._

 _I'm not quite sure how I feel about the last part, as the word vomit will explain. I might redo it later and replace it. If I do, I'll let ya know in the summary of the fic. Cheers!_

 _Aaaaay, that Heavy T for dez killinz tho!)_

* * *

 **Killer, pt 2**

Zhalia stopped just inside the door, letting it drift closed and finally snap shut with a sharp _bang!_

The five men at a rickety old table to Zhalia's left all lifted about an inch off their seats, startled from their card game. About twenty feet down the length of the warehouse a wiry young man lounged in a folding lawn chair that had seen better days, resting his sharp cheekbone on one of the gaudy, overly large text rings that spanned his knuckles. He raised his head at the woman's entrance, trying and failing to mask his surprise.

Zhalia lifted the note, held between two fingers, for the young man to see as his cronies scrambled to surround her. "You Jawbreaker?" She shot a glare of pure disgust at the man closest to her when he pulled a gun from his pants and made to point it at her head, tilted slightly sideways. "Are you a Seeker or a gangbanger? Put that shit away before you break your fucking wrist with it."

'Jawbreaker' sat up only to lean forward and brace his elbows on his knees. "Ye, I'm Jawbreaker." He bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile, revealing several gaping holes where white enamel should have been. "I'm glad you got our message. As for being a Seeker or a gangbanger, why can't we be both? We got the money and the bitches with those little monsters of ours."

Without warning Zhalia's hand shot out and folded over the gun toting rogue's loose grip on his pistol. Even though he was holding the gun he couldn't tell what had happened, but less than a second later the magazine dropped out of the bottom of the Berretta and the slide slid back to eject the chambered round.

By the time he pulled the trigger in response, he was met with an empty click.

"Because it's against the laws of nature for you to be _this_ terrible at two things at once." The former spy stepped forward, further into the dim light so she could speak more clearly to the ragtag group's leader. "You got siblings, Jawbreaker?"

The young man gnashed his remaining teeth at the display the crazy bitch had just put on. Guns were supposed to scare people. Guns could take out both Seekers and Titans. His group should be feared by everyone, not toyed with like some dollar store knockoff of a _real_ crime organization by one lone, shirtless woman. They were moving up in the world, and he wasn't going to be stopped. "I told you to give me your Titans, lady. You saw those two brats. You don't want to know what my boys could do to a pretty little thing like you."

"I've been through worse than any of you could even dream up." Zhalia stepped forward again, totally at ease. The gang members moved with her, some curling their fists around amulets while others just cracked their knuckles in anticipation. "I asked if you had siblings because those two boys back there, they're like my little brothers. I'd do anything to keep them safe."

"Did a shit job of that, then." Jawbreaker sneered. "Toss your amulets up here, lady. Keep what happened to them from happening to anyone else in your little groupie."

Zhalia sighed and reached into the pocket of her stolen cargos. These guys had no sense of class when it came to threats. "I'm just going to tell you now, you really did fuck with the wrong people." She withdrew her fist and held it up for the wannabe gangbanger to get a look.

There was a tiny click of a blade locking into place and Jawbreaker was suddenly staring down at his own knife sticking out of his chest.

 _That's one._

The idiot who had pulled the gun lunged at Zhalia once he realized what she had done, trying to get her into a crude bear hug. She stepped backwards and managed to grab the back of his head as he dived past and used his near horizontal position and her own weight to slam the unfortunate fool's face into the concrete floor with a disturbing _crack_.

 _Two_.

The guy to her left was still trying to process why his boss wasn't spitting out a wicked retort when his friend's face turned into pavement pizza. Zhalia took his lapse as a chance to jam her middle knuckle into the side of his throat.

He didn't even register that his heart had seized up. He fell to the floor and spasmed violently as his brain slowly died of oxygen and blood deprivation.

 _Three_.

The trio behind her was moving now, two of them raising amulets while the third began a mad scramble for the pistol he had left on the makeshift poker table when he ran out of cash.

They always got so bunched up and close together when they were scared. She didn't even need to take more than two steps after turning, sliding down on one knee to ram her elbow into the closer Seeker's leading inner thigh and then deliver a very unladylike punch to the second man's nethers.

As the first fell forward, his leg giving out, she threw a devastating palm strike straight up into his forehead. It carried through his momentum and snapped his neck back so far that his vertebrae separated with a horrific series of pops.

 _Four_.

For the poor sod doubled over in pain, clutching his wounded manhood, Zhalia swiftly leapt to her feet and shoved him face first into the floor. A quick kick rolled him onto his back and the woman viciously ground her bare heel into his fourth and fifth ribs.

A good downward shove was all it took to snap the bones and drive them into his heart.

 _Five_.

The last one was nearly at the table now, and in a few bounds Zhalia overtook him. She locked her arm around his neck just as his fingertips grazed the Glock's grip, and with a savage twist she threw her weight counter to his and broke his neck.

 _And that's six_.

Zhalia let the lifeless body in her arms drop to the floor like a sack of flour. She checked the watch on the second one's wrist, having caught a glimpse of the time before the row began.

Six bodies in under a minute and a half. Not bad for being rusty.

Janusea was _not_ amused when Zhalia asked her if she knew of any good dimensions to hide some bodies. It took some convincing on the her Seeker's part, explaining the things that had been done to Den and Harrison and how the gang had threatened to do the same to the rest of the team, but eventually the shamanistic Titan opened a gateway to an uninhabited section of a dark dimension.

"I promise this won't happen often." Zhalia apologized as she heaved the last two bodies from outside into the gaping maw of blackness. "But to be totally honest…you make cleanup _way_ easier than using Ignatius." The Titan gave her a mental look that was very disapproving. "I know, I know. I swear I won't do this again unless it's necessary. I really appreciate your help." The former spy retrieved her jeans and swapped them with the cargos, which joined the bodies floating aimlessly in the void. "Alright, that's it. Thank you, again."

Under the Thoughtspectre'd guise of an enthusiastic teenage chemistry student, Zhalia bought two liter-sized bottles of rubbing alcohol from a sketchy looking pharmacy down the block. She washed her feet, hands and arms, scrubbed under her nails, and peeled off the thin layer of window sealant silicone she had coated her palms, fingers and the bottoms of her feet with before heading to the warehouse.

No prints. No fibers or transfer on her clothing. A flashburn of the interior of the warehouse with one of Klaus's handy spells removed any trace of hair, blood, skin and sweat that she could have possibly left behind.

Untraceable. Unsolvable. Just like before, she was a ghost.

Just like before, it left a sour taste in her mouth. When all was said and done, she felt a pang of guilt that was forced down into a tiny ingot stamped 'what we had to do.'

The only thing that could tie her to the gang's disappearance was safely in her amulet pouch. It would be incinerated later, but only after showing it to two very important boys.


	16. Killer, pt 3

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Hot dayum this part's even worse. I will admit, I was buzzed and writing at 2:30am by the time I cranked this ending stuff out. Tried rereading it over and over now that I'm more aware and I can't decide if I like the last section or if it needs to be redone._

 _I say that because it's quite apparent that Zhalia was cool calm and collected in the act of killing the guys, but afterwards she's conflicted and whatnot, ya know? And part of me really likes the whole 'yeah, I ripped a guys eyeball out once and put an ice pick into his brain. It was a fun mission. Good cheese fritters on the train ride back.' nonchalant Zhalia, but another part of me wants to show that after being with the Foundation she can still kill and be a heartless bitch, but she honestly cares about what Dante thinks of her and despite having a damn good couple of reasons to kill this time, she still worries that Dante would hate her for it/doesn't want that kind of life for the twins/doesn't want that kind of stuff to touch Dante, though he could have some skells in his closet too. Wait, how the hell did I even start that sentence? Does that make_ any _sense?_

 _Anyway, she'd kill again, and once Dante tells her he understands it's a part of her her, she'd go back to being cool and calm about it. Like if some dumbass guy ran at any of them with a knife or a gun her first reaction wouldn't be to immobilize or knock him out with a power it'd be like 'whoops my hand slipped and suddenly your neck is broken. Move along kids, nothing to see here. Scram. Shoo.'_

 _I donno, I should shut up and let you guys read the fucking story, eh?)_

* * *

 **Killer, pt 3**

"I don't want to talk about it." Zhalia stated flatly when Dante met her at the door of the Foundation hospital. He had that _look_ to him, part questioning, part disapproving, and part anxious. She hated it, hated that she had broken one of their long-standing promises.

"Zhalia…"

"I _just_ said I don't want to talk about it." She brushed past her partner. She couldn't look him in the eye, not now. "Sophie's text said the boys were awake. I need to talk to their doc."

Behind her, Dante watched her go with worry in his tired eyes.

Den and Harrison looked much better than they had in the darkened room turned torture chamber. They both were relieved when Zhalia came in, having been just as in the dark about her whereabouts as the rest of the team.

After some time spent apologizing all around for getting caught, not being protective enough, and leaving before they had woken, Zhalia lowered her voice and said, "Look, I'm not going to get into specifics here, okay? But I want you both to know that those guys aren't ever going to be able to hurt you again. I don't want you asking me questions about this, especially around the team, but I want you to know that I made sure that they wouldn't be able to get to you, _ever_." She reached into her amulet pouch and drew out an earing, a human canine dangling from a fine gold chain. "…Do you understand?"

Den was the first to speak. "You did that…for us?"

"You two are _mijn_ _kleine broers._ " She said it like it was all the answer they needed. For them, after their shared hardship and similar history, it almost was.

"But…" Harrison paused, his voice still scratchy. "You said you promised–"

"He hates it, but he knows I'd do the same for him." Zhalia flipped the tooth and chain into her hand and muttered one of Kiel's pinpoint incineration spells. When she opened her fist all that was left were fine particles of unremarkable ash. "So let's all agree to protect each other better in the future, so I don't go and get crazy like I did in the War or the way I did today. Deal?"

The Fears boys exchanged glances, and then both extended a fist towards their sister. Like her, they knew there were times when then unspeakable was the only path for survival. "Deal."

Zhalia gave them a wry smile and touched her knuckles to theirs before standing. "Alright, you two. The doc said you should get some rest, so get some rest. I'll be back in an hour or so." As she retreated from the room, the woman tossed over her shoulder a passing remark. "And if anyone catches you out of bed you get to deal with me!"

* * *

It was a cool night. Zhalia took advantage of this to stand out on the safehouse balcony, leaning her forearms on the railing. She was sharing the room with Dante, but he still wasn't back from dealing with the medical expenses and logistics at the hospital. To be honest, she was a little glad she was alone.

Zhalia had avoided him when she left. she felt deep down in whatever heart she had that taking the gang out was right. It was terrible and wrong and evil, but for the sake of the team it was _right_.

The gang had taken two of their own from under their noses. They had powerful Titans but ill equipped Seekers, Seekers easily shaped, molded and steered by a single individual with dark intentions and callous disregard for both civilian and Seeker life.

They were rough, inexperienced, and terrible fighters. But all the materials were there. All the right figures, all the right power, all the right, disgustingly _evil_ intent to use it all to sow pain, destruction and misery. It was a budding Organization and Blood Spiral mixed in one, without the cult-like following.

Cults drew numbers. But viciousness and power drew _talent_. And they couldn't risk that. Not now, not with the unstable Seeker world still reeling from the Spiral War.

With all this, Zhalia told herself thather actions were justified. Her main reason was to protect the twins, but the greater good was a key factor as well. She had done it before for far less noble reasons, under orders or in the heat of the battle or when the feral instincts buried deep in her street memories reared their ugly head. It was just something she _did_ , and the reason this time was perfectly sound.

 _So why did she feel so sick?_

The former spy–no, former _killer_ –leaned over the rail and pushed her wild hair out of her face, breathing deep and slow to calm herself. Her stomach rolled again, and she bit her lip hard.

She hadn't felt like this after a kill for a long time. It was bringing back memories of when she was a child, _truly_ a child. Her first few weeks after escaping that orphanage and the man that had tried to snatch her out of the alleyway she had claimed. She had kicked and screamed when he leapt from the shadows and grabbed her arm, but it was the redlight district and no one cared that a grown man was trying to abduct a child in the frosty haze of a drug-fueled evening.

She remembered him trying to drag her out of the alley to his car and the chunk of brick in her hand and the soft-but-crackly _feeling_ of his temple giving way.

She had been sick in the gutter beside his lifeless body. And again on the way back to her shelter.

She was very careful not to get any of it on the newly acquired, oversized coat now draped around her skinny shoulders.

Zhalia jumped slightly when she suddenly felt a gentle hand on her back.

"Easy." Dante murmured, joining his partner at the railing. He could feel the tiny tremors running down her spine. "Are you okay?"

She choked out a laugh. The warble in it surprised her, and Zhalia rubbed her eyes to be sure she wasn't crying. "No. I don't know why, but no."

"You've been through a lot today." With practiced ease Dante slid his hand from Zhalia's back to her opposite shoulder, pulling her in for a comforting side hug that left her easy escape if she felt confined.

To his surprise, the former spy turned into his embrace and rested her head on his chest. She felt his heart beating through the layers of fabric that separated them, and a calm washed over her.

The sound of his heart always did that after the Spiral War. Knowing that he was still there with her, that he wasn't motes of ash on solar winds. He was here, he was real, and _somehow_ , the truth of it conveyed through his simple touch, he forgave her actions today.

"I broke a promise to you." Zhalia whispered. It hurt to even say it aloud. She _hated_ feeling this vulnerable, feeling confused and angry and sick and wrong and like a damn monster.

She hated being a killer. But part of her would always bear that name.

It wasn't the act of killing that had her so upset. It was the fear that Dante would never forgive her for it.

 _But he did._

Dante pressed a kiss to the top of his partner's head. He had been angry at first, suspicious of her disappearance and later, certain about her reasons. He was worried about her safety, cursed himself for not following her, and felt betrayed by her choice of vengeance over justice.

That all fell away when he saw the hollow, haunted light in her eyes at the hospital. He had seen it only once before, on the fateful night she chose her allegiance once and for all by taking out the man who had raised her like a father. A possibly crazy, maniacal, mad scientist father under the control of an evil megalomaniac, but still, the only father she had ever known.

Dante hoped that he wouldn't have to understand the way taking a life ripped a person up and pieced them back together. Some little tiny shred always ended up missing, a thin curl here or a corner bit there.

But after everything he and Zhalia had gone through, after she opened his mind and bared his soul, a small voice had begun to whisper things in his ear.

 _You've always had the potential to make that choice._

 _Now you have a reason._

If he was presented with a call to end a life to save one, save the lives of anyone on his team and especially the life of the woman here with him…he could and _would_ make that choice. And he knew that afterwards Zhalia would be there, waiting to hold him tight and remind him that _he is whole_.

So he wrapped his arms around Zhalia's smaller frame and held her close.

"It's okay." He murmured in her ear, feeling her body shaking against his as she silently cried her relief into his coat. "It was a stupid promise anyway."


	17. Driver (S1 Ultra-Short)

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _My reason for not uploading 'Killer' pt 2 and 3 when I said I would? Well, ladies and gents, theres this pesky joint called the sacroiliac joint that in ladies can move slightly, for baby stuff. It's uncommon, but if you sit in certain positions for loooooooooooong periods of time, it can come out of alignment. I badly, and I mean_ badly _, misaligned mine while doing 8-10+ hour days in a lab a few years back. It slips out every once in a while, but apparently sitting in a half reclined position on the floor to write fanfics and play Tomb Raider can do hell to your pelvic area just as good as worm picking under a scope can._

 _So extreme pain plus torrential rain and devastating thunderstorms put me out of commission of doing much the past few days. Realigned everything, hunkered down, and I'm almost all done with lingering aches so I'm back in buissness!_

 _Cheers you lot!_

 _Have an extra short S1 fluff/song inspired shot for your troubles.)_

 **Driver (S1)**

Six. Hours.

Zhalia had been stuck driving for six _fucking_ hours.

The Lambert kid and the Casterwill princess were too young to drive, let alone drive a rental. Cherit couldn't reach the pedals, not that he didn't try. The three of them had been wiped out by the mission anyway, zonked out in the back seat and drooling away on the upholstery.

And Dante, their great and glorious leader who only jumped into the fight at the very end to save the day, was a- _fucking_ -sleep.

 _Dipshit_.

Sometimes she thought it would be a shame to kill him. Dante Vale was intelligent, efficient, a hell of a martial artist, a master strategist, _very_ easy on the eyes, and occasionally even a nice guy. He didn't put up with rookie shit and forced the kids to either work at his level or shut up and stay behind.

But then Zhalia would remember him disappearing and leaving her with the brats and the flying monkey to look for some more placebo bullshit cures for his mentor _in the middle of a fucking mission._ And of course after she worked her ass off keeping them all alive while Defoe and his lot chased them around trap infested corridors and caves, Dante showed up all rested and gave Defoe an ass kicking that would have the same effect as a slap on the wrist and a timeout when it came to keeping the sniveling rat-faced dick out of their business the next time around.

And she told herself it would just be a few more months until she got her kill order and she'd be done with him.

Right now, though, she needed to get him to take over driving. Zhalia was damn proud of her endurance, in _all_ aspects of life, but for fucks sake, a shit mission and six hours in a car would exhaust anyone.

The music through her earbuds could only keep her awake for a bit longer. Thankfully, the next song that cycled through her playlist gave her the perfect idea on how to passive aggressively wake the sleeping Seeker beside her without looking like a _total_ bitch.

Mostly.

Zhalia mumbled the words to herself quietly.

" _You fell asleep in my, car I drove the whole time. But that's okay I'll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine_." An evil grin split across her face when she saw an approaching pothole. "Not!"

Dante Vale, the pride of the Huntik Foundation, flailed and bolted up in his seat when the car gave a massive jolt. In a display of the complete opposite of grace he managed to whack his head on first the window he had been resting on, then the flipped down visor in front of him, and was finally yanked back by the autolock seatbelt retracting.

"Oh _good,_ you're awake. Good morning, sunshine." Zhalia wasted no time in pulling over to the shoulder and turning the car off. "Why don't you get out, stretch your legs, and take the fuck over."

The fearless leader groaned and rubbed his face. "Shit, I took my watch off. It was supposed to wake me up after three hours." He unbuckled his seat belt and stiffly clambered out of the car, joining Zhalia at the front bumper. "Sorry about that."

His apology surprised her. It always did, no matter how many times he treated her like a human being instead of a stiff collared colleague.

"Yeah, whatever. Don't forget it next time." Zhalia uncrossed her arms and pushed off the hood. Dante took his time stretching and waking up as she took his place in the passenger side, curling up against the backrest.

She was already half asleep when Dante climbed in. It may have been her exhaustion-addled brain, but she swore he gently reached over and secured her forgotten seatbelt. When Zhalia woke up at the Foundation safehouse three hours later, his coat was tucked up over her shoulder.

It was then that she started to realize that being treated like a human felt…nice.


	18. Skillset (S1), pt 1

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Another fic set in Season 1, probably….oh I donno somewhere between the Argonauts and Ireland? Zhalia isn't getting orders from Klaus yet and there's already a bit of 'teamness{?}' with everyone sorta._

 _Song that semi-inspired this is Panic! At the Disco's_ Say Amen (Saturday Night) _. Go listen to it before you read this. Like,_ now _. It's been top song on my DxZ playlist for about two weeks now. Part two is inspired by, and uses elements of, Timmy Trumpet's_ Freaks _._

 _Oh, and I apologize profusely to any readers from the lovely country of Spain. I have NO real knowledge of your country or culture, only that the drinking age is sixteen. I needed to get Lok and Sophie into a bar, and they're close enough to sixteen in season 1 to pass I guess…. I do hope to visit sometime though!)_

* * *

 **Skillset (S1), pt 1**

The Madrid safehouse was fairly quiet, the team having spent the day recovering from their most recent mission. Night was quickly falling, and though they were on the outskirts the bright lights of the city's nightlife were clearly visible.

"Dante!" The elite Seeker looked up from his book at Cherit's call. The small gargoyle flapped into the room with the Holotome in his paws. "You have a call coming through!"

"Thanks, Cherit." Dante accepted the device and opened it, Cherit settling on his shoulder. A face appeared in green hologram as he accepted the call. "Guggenheim, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

The Swiss grinned up at him, adjusting his tie. "Ah, hullo Dante, Cherit! I know you and your team just got off a mission, but when I heard you were staying in Madrid a few days I thought I'd bring this little job up. Our usual team in the area is away, and with Zhalia's skills this would be fairly open and shut if you're willing to take it."

Dante leaned back slightly, Cherit swaying on his perch. "If it's Zhalia's skills you're looking for, I think you'd better talk to her."

"Lucky I stayed, then." Startled by her silent approach, the team leader jerked around to see the Foundation's sole spy leaning against the wall behind him with her arms crossed. "Guggenheim." Zhalia inclined her head slightly.

"Good to see you, Zhalia! Up for a quick retrieval mission with Dante?"

"Why not. It's already boring around here anyway."

"Splendid!" The Swiss replaced his image with that of a dark haired man with stubbled cheeks and generous numbers of gold chains draped around his tanned neck. "This is Markus Tabre. He's not a Seeker, but he's been working for the Organization for years." The picture again switched, this time to an obviously Facebook sourced photo of Tabre jumping into a festively decorated pool with a bottle of tequila in each hand. On his bare back, right where his neck melded with his shoulders, a bold palm-sized tattoo of the Organization's symbol was stamped into his skin.

"He looks charming." Zhalia stated, words dripping with sarcasm.

"Quite." Guggenheim agreed with a slight sneer of disgust. "His father is reputed to be the untouchable head of a Romanian mob family. Work for the Organization seems to be a side business for Tabre to line his pockets with spending money. Our intel team and tails have reported that he throws it all at lavish goods and chances to party in the biggest bars around the world. Our sources also tell us he's in Madrid for a few nights of somewhat low-key barhopping.

"Tabre is confirmed to be carrying on his person a flash drive of Organization secrets, ones that he plans to use if the Professor grows tired of him and tries to take him down. The information on said drive could be incredibly useful to the Foundation in tracking down and choking off the Professor's funds. We need someone to retrieve it without arousing suspicion from Tabre or his entourage, at least until it is secured in a Foundation safehouse."

Zhalia's lips curled in a wicked grin. This was right up her alley. "Sounds fun. Send over his abbreviated psych profile and any intel on his behavior when he's clubbing."

"Done. Thank you for taking this one on, Miss Moon." Dante's holotome began spitting out a thin packet of notecards from the side printer. "Is there anything else you will need?"

Zhalia mulled over it, rocking her head back and forth. "Do we _have_ to take the kids?"

"It may be dangerous…" Cherit's high voice cracked into the conversation. He looked a little sheepish. "But I think they would follow you two anyway. And it would be safer if they're with you from the start."

Dante nodded his agreement when Zhalia cast a glance his way. "Fine." She paused again. "Can this thing print IDs?"

* * *

"I'm still not convinced Guggenheim would _actually_ send us on a mission at a club." Sophie stepped out of the taxi and onto the edge of the sidewalk that graced the front of the establishment.

Zhalia joined her, still flipping through the notecards that the Foundation deputy head had sent. "Is that why you tried to get dressed up?" The older woman hadn't changed clothes much at all, still wearing her usual jeans, tank top and scarf but leaving her overshirt at home. Dante noticed that her scar littered arms seemed smoother, the wire white and satin pink marks softened and much less stark. He couldn't help the slight grin when he realized she was learning to use Thoughtspectre on moving organic life.

Sophie, on the other hand, had thrown on a new skirt and makeup, even taking a page from Zhalia's book and wearing a black choker around her neck.

"This is so cool, though, right?" Lok cut off the argument before it started, bounding up and drinking in the flashing neon lights and bustle of the eager line of hopefuls that milled about outside the velvet roped entrance. "There's music, and food, and all these people!"

"We're supposed to be discreet." Dante chided calmly. He hadn't changed either, nor had his young charge. "This is Zhalia's mission. We're only here as backup in case something goes wrong."

"Actually, you guys could be useful." Zhalia slipped the cards into one of Dante's coat pockets and waved the group on to follow her lead. "Let's get this over with."

A quick ID check and some smooth talking and name switching by Zhalia, and the team was inside the club. Tabre and his crew were easily found by their elevated booth in the VIP area overlooking the bar and crowded dance floor. Zhalia quickly herded the teens and Dante to a table in Tabre's blind spot.

"Alright, this should be fairly simple." Zhalia turned away from them momentarily to take a few steps out into the crowd. She bumped into a young woman passing by, giggling a drunken apology before turning back. "When I text you to go, I need you all to go out the side exit and wait for me there. Don't wait, but don't draw attention to yourself." She revealed a stick of dark lipstick, swiped from the woman's purses, which she quickly applied. "Dante, you're with me. Lok, leave Cherit with Sophie and go mingle."

Lok's previous excitement seemed to wither into nervousness. There were _girls_ out there. _Scantly clad_ girls. And they were _dirty dancing._ This was a fun little mission at first but all his teenage awkwardness rushed back faster than a flashflood. "Uh…okay? Do…do I talk to people?"

Zhalia rolled her eyes. " _Yes._ If you can't think of anything go around asking the little cliques of girls and ask if they've seen an older guy that looks like you. Your brother dragged you out here and you can't find him and want to go home. Chicks dig the lost little brother shit."

Lok shrugged helplessly to the furry white head peeking out of his satchel and passed the bag and Titan over to Sophie before he shuffled out to the dance floor. As Sophie slung the strap over her shoulder the Foundation's spy gestured to her throat. "I need your choker."

"What?" Sophie pulled back, ignoring Cherit's soft cry of protest at being jostled. "Why?!"

"Because scarves aren't the kind of sexy this guy goes for, and I can't have it turning into a fucking garrote in quarters this close. I didn't have a choker. I knew you had one and I knew you'd wear it."

"Then you should have gone out and bought one!" The Casterwill snapped, one hand flying to the black choker around her neck. "Why on earth would you–"

Obviously tired of the argument and wanting to get the mission proper done with, Zhalia let out a snarled, "Oh, for fucksake." and yanked down the front portion of her scarf. "Because no one wants to dance with Frankenstein's fucking Monster. So shut up and _give me the fucking choker._ "

Sophie blenched, taking a step backward at the sudden appearance of the scar that slashed across Zhalia's throat. In the blacklights of the bar it nearly glowed ghastly white. Dante managed to restrict his reaction to a slightly raised eyebrow, not really surprised. After seeing the state of her arms and how she never took the scarf off in their presence, a disfiguring mark was the logical conclusion he had come to long ago.

"Unless your next words are 'Sorry, here's the fucking choker,' you better shut your mouth." Zhalia growled when Sophie started to speak. The younger Seeker shakily obeyed, clamping her lips shut as she reached up and unclasped the choker at the back of her neck. "Good choice. Alright, go…I don't know, follow Lok. Stay close to him."

"What, am I his sister or something?" Sophie couldn't help the sneer in her voice. Taking orders from Dante was a dream come true. Taking orders from _Zhalia_ was against everything in her blood.

Zhalia scoffed. "Take it easy, princess. I'm sure you can think up a story. Be his girlfriend or something." She untucked her tank top and tied her usual scarf around her waist like a belt, the choker already in place.

The Casterwill crossed her arms. "Then why doesn't Dante come with me? You were trying to set Lok up with one of the bar floozies earlier, it'll throw him off."

"Because in most countries, _including_ this one, that would be called _pedophilia_ , Sophie." Without another glance at the younger Seeker Zhalia turned on her heel and waved Dante after her, tousling her dark hair into wildly alluring disarray as she went. "Come on, Dante. I hope you like gin."

"Keep an eye on the teens, Cherit. And be careful, the both of you." Dante warned lowly before hurrying after Zhalia in the crowd.

This was going to be interesting.

…And why did it have to be _gin?_

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _I know, it doesn't sound very Dante-like to just leave the teens and Cherit alone in a hoppin' bar/dance scene like that, but it's a mission and the mission comes first. Plus it's very clear that they can take care of themselves even without powers and Titans, and Dante Vale slows down for no one! I think. I don't know. My SI joint slipped out again and I gave in and took some of my happy pain meds. If anyone finds any position that isn't sitting, laying down or standing let me know, because all those ain't too comfy at the moment. Or just take my pelvis! I'm not using it for nothin' special!_

 _Aayyy, Zhalia gets to do an impromptu disguise! Nothing like a sexy dance floor 'I don't care, let's drink and fuck till the sun comes up' persona and look to drag a mafia boy away from his security entourage._

 _Cheers you lot! I hope this isn't too bad. The meds kicked in halfway through….)_


	19. Contact, pt 1 (mini drabble)

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _I just got back from a 4 hour shark tooth hunting tour. I usually go solo but found a local homegrown group that does tours to a spot I've never been. I feel like I've had the liquid sucked out of my skin and my body feels like I've been hit by a truck._

 _I'm craving some cuddles despite my Arom and Ace status. So instead D and Z get some cuddles.)_

* * *

 **Contact, pt 1**

Dante's watch buzzed, waking him from his deep sleep. He blinked groggily, checking the softly pulsing alert of 'entry detected' on the digital face.

The great Seeker let his head thud back into his pillow. Two in the morning. If it was someone trying to attack him, he'd just let it wait till morning.

 _Totally_ could wait.

Dante was already halfway back to blissful oblivion when a light touch pushed his door open just a crack and a lithe form slipped in. He tensed, expecting an ambush.

"Hey. Just me."

He relaxed again at Zhalia's quiet words, letting out a huff of tight air. "No window this time?"

Dante could hear the tired grin in her voice. "An eight hour delayed flight in coach does not a graceful Zhalia make." Her boots dropped to the floor, followed by the soft rustle of her jeans and the metallic clack of her belt on the wood panels.

If he weren't so damn groggy he would have definitely rolled over by now to watch the show as his partner finally discarded her shirts and stripped out of her undergarments. Dante Vale was a hot-blooded male after all, and Zhalia losing clothing usually woke him right up.

But after getting back from his own long flight earlier, direct from losing probably half his weight in sweat in the Sahara, even the elite Seeker wasn't up for a hot and heavy late night romp.

And neither, apparently, was Zhalia.

The former spy slipped under the sheets and slid her arms around Dante's chest. He let out a sigh of contentment as her soft skin pressed against his back, lips cool as she nuzzled his shoulders and gave him a light kiss.

"That's my move." Dante chuckled. After she had nearly first stabbed him, then later on almost socked him in the face, the detective had learned to announce his presence before trying to cuddle the woman from behind when she was half asleep.

Zhalia laughed as well and curled her body closer to his. "I think we're going to have to trade from now on. I like this." She rested her forehead against his lower shoulder blade, totally content. "I'mma sleep now. G'nite hot stuff."

"Good night, babe."

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Part 2 of Skillset is literally like an eighth done. But I'm watching Jurassic World right now and I need a bit of time to recover my muscles and hydration._

 _Cheers mates!)_


	20. Skillset (S1), pt 2

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Lost my grove on this one, but I wasn't going to let the fic die._ _As previously mentioned, this one is to the tune of Timmy Trumpet's song_ Freaks. _Let's get our boogie on! This is longer than any other part/chapter so just…bear with me? This one also has quite a bit of OoC, mostly because I don't like messing with Lok and Sophie talking, especially in the situation I put everyone in._

 _Rereading this, I realize I went a little dark. Sorry!_

 _A little warning to the awesome Dutch readers, I_ might _have decided to use a swear/profane word of your language that's considered a very serious offence? Technically it means cancer sufferer, aaannd apparently someone got arrested or something for it at some point? Leave it to a very pissed off Zhalia to use it. I felt it was in character for her given the circumstances._

 _Also, a warning to_ **everyone** _that Rohypnol{aka Roofies} and its illegal uses are heavily alluded to in this chapter, though not explicitly stated besides once. So if you're uncomfortable with that, please protect yourself and…I donno, not read it?)_

* * *

 **Skillset (S1), pt 2**

Dante followed Zhalia up to the bar, trying his best to keep his hands off anyone that bumped against him. When he finally sidled up next to his teammate she had already ordered a gin and tonic for herself and, to his surprise, a bourbon and Sprite for him.

A single sip was all he needed to know that it was perfectly poured in his usual ratio, just an eighth of whisky to a full old fashioned glass of Sprite. "How did–"

"How did I know?" Zhalia put her gin and tonic down, turning to him sharply. "Honestly, because you're a fucking pussy when it comes to booze."

Dante deadpanned. "What?"

"You're about as good with whisky as you are with women. And that's saying a lot."

"Is this part of–"

"Hope you like gin better than whisky, fuckwit."

And suddenly the Foundation's Finest had a face full of gin.

A second after that he also learned what the five fingers said to the face.

Dante Vale wiped booze from his eyelids and blinked rapidly, totally and utterly bewildered at the sting radiating from his cheek. In the pit, the bartender winced sympathetically with a chuckle. "Ooof, my friend! Sounds like you got caught with your belt at your knees, eh?"

"Yeah, uh…must have." He watched her storm off to a free table at the other side of the club…and realized the entire exchange had been in Markus Tabre's line of sight.

Their man of the hour was watching Zhalia as well.

* * *

Zhalia slumped down into the abandoned booth, doing her best to look huffy despite the internal laughter ringing in her head. Tossing a drink in Dante Vale's face and giving him a slap that wasn't going to fade quickly was just one of the nights perks.

If the intel was right, the second perk should be coming up about…

"Excuse me?" A tall waitress in shiny skintight faux leather slid a new gin and tonic down in front of the disguised Seeker. "The gentleman up in VIP sent you this with an invitation up to his booth." She indicated the Tabre table. "And don't worry, honey. We make every gifted drink behind the bar. No tricks here."

Zhalia feigned surprise. Right on schedule. "Oh! Thank you."

As the waitress slinked off Zhalia shifted and locked eyes with Markus Tabre, raising her glass to him with a flirtatious smirk. He met her gaze and mirrored her action, flashing her what could have been a charming smile had she not already known his history. Together they downed their respective drinks, never taking their eyes off each other.

With a rattle of ice cubes Zhalia put her empty tumbler down and, with a sly glance over her shoulder to ensure Tabre's continued attention, sauntered across the crowded floor to where the jockey was fiddling with his laptop. She reached up and slipped a fifty Euro note under his chocolate colored arm, letting out a small cough to be sure he noticed her.

The move seemed to pull the jockey out of a daze. He first snatched up the note as if it would disappear without contact with his fingerprints, then jerked his head up to inspect the woman before him, dreads swinging wildly.

"Timmy Trumpet. _Freaks_. And that's all yours."

"Ay, anything for the paper, lady. That's a good one, I'll queue it up for you."

Zhalia turned as the song began blaring over the speakers and beckoned Tabre down to her hunting grounds with a single crooked finger. A little sway to her hips as she melted into the crowd of dancers, and the mark was hers.

* * *

"So…" Tabre's voice was unremarkable beyond his slight Romanian accent, not nearly as sonorous as Zhalia had expected. She swallowed her revulsion as his hands settled on her hips from behind, following her movements cautiously but firmly. "You liked your drink?"

"I always love gifts from handsome men." She turned, draping her arms over his shoulders. His tanned face registered surprise for just the briefest of moments, then a flash of sly satisfaction. "You know, you're my knight in shining armor tonight."

Tabre bared his teeth in a predatory mockery of a smile. To anyone else it would have been a disarming grin. "That _bulangiu_ cheat you?" He chuckled at Zhalia's feigned, though amused, confusion, "That bastard at the bar."

"Oh! Ugh, he's my very recently _ex-_ boyfriend." She flicked her hair back over her shoulder with a practiced toss of her head. "He's been ducking out on me for months. I've just been waiting on a chance to ditch him without a way to get back home." She giggled mischievously, making sure to turn just so to make the flickering lights catch in her eyes. "We're from the Netherlands. He doesn't know I tore up his return ticket."

Tabre laughed, and to Zhalia's honest surprise he actually tapped her on the tip of the nose. It was like he was admonishing a dog, though with no intent to truly punish it. The action made her bite her tongue to keep from breaking his finger. " _You_ are a devious lady." He bit his lower lip, blatantly raking his eyes over the spy's form. "So you are…free? Single, yes?"

Zhalia laughed, adding a bright note to the sound. "Oh, mister. I'm ready to drink and fuck till the sun comes up. I'm just looking for the right kind of man to treat me right for just one night. No strings, just a little revenge."

"I think you've found your man, little minx." Tabre pulled Zhalia's body closer to his, grip on her hips becoming a little _too_ tight. "What do you say we go back to my place?"

"My, my, you move fast. I like that." The spy winked at him. "My hotel's a block away. Let's ditch this scene. I've got something a little stronger than waiting for us…"

Tabre didn't resist as Zhalia grabbed his arm and began leading him to the side exit. On the way she stopped, let out a little Dutch curse, and pulled her phone from her pocket.

"Ugh! _No,_ I'm _not_ forgiving you, piece of shit." She snarled, reading an imaginary text message from her 'ex-boyfriend' and angrily typed out ' _go_ ' in the Huntik team group message. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lok and Sophie react to the text, weaving in and out of the jumping crowd. Dante was already slipping out the side door, the quick flash of yellow canvas the only indication of his whereabouts.

"Come on, handsome. I don't want that bastard trying to bum a ride off us before we get out of here."

To say Tabre was confused when they got outside would be an understatement. His bewilderment didn't last long, though, as Dante took him out with a casually squeezed Vargus nerve as he stepped into the darkened alley.

"Well…" Sophie raised her eyebrows as the Romanian collapsed in an unceremonious heap. "That was easy."

"It's not over yet." Dante cautioned, hefting one of Tabre's arms over his shoulders. "Lok, get his other side. We have a little change of scenery to get underway."

* * *

Zhalia slipped into the suite and held the door open for the struggling Dante and Lok, Sophie checking the corridor one more time before following. Tabre was depositing none-too-gently into a plush armchair, letting out a groggy snort when the jolt started rousing him from unconsciousness.

"Hey!" Zhalia looked up from flipping open the Romanian's wallet at Sophie's indignant cry. "We're here to get the drive, not his money. Put it back!"

"Ever think it might be _in_ his wallet? Oh, _hello._ Dante, take a look at these." Zhalia's expression was caught between an angry scowl and a disgusted snarl. She lifted a tiny baggie of nondescript white tablets. "Good thing that place makes gifted drinks behind the bar. I should have tipped them."

Dante looked up from searching the stirring Tabre's pockets. Lok took surprised a step back as his mentor leapt to his feet, barely contained rage on his features. "Is that what I think it is?"

"…This is a very bad man." Cherit growled. Sophie snagged his tail just in time as he flew from his bag, looking as if he was going to chew off one of the Romanian's fingers.

"Rohypnol." Zhalia flicked the bag. "…If my biochem is up to date, there's enough in the last of these to put a man about this asshole's size on his back for a while."

Lok started unlacing Tabre's shoes. If the movies were anything to go by, bad guys kept all sorts of goodies in their shoes in case they were captured. He could have hidden the drive in his sock or something. He didn't wantto think about what those pills had been used for. His big sister, nearly alone back home, was at the age of parties and dances and despite her studious commitment to her university classes, he still worried.

Meanwhile Sophie cast a disapproving glance at the woman beside her, making no move to help search for their goal. "Zhalia, I'll agree with you that what he does with those pills is terrible. But at the end of this we are going to turn him and those pills over to the police, we are _not_ going to drug–"

"Executive decision, guy wanted to rape me, I'm giving him the pills." Before anyone could stop her Zhalia had vaulted over the armchair, wannabe mobster and all, wrenched open the groggy man's mouth, threw the pills to the back of his throat. She slammed his teeth closed and clamped her hand over his nose and mouth, cutting off any chance of breathing until she got what she wanted.

Tabre flailed, gagging on the partially dissolving tablets as he tried to spit them out and take a breath to no avail. His assailant just tightened her grip on his face, shoving a thumb into the soft flesh under the very front of his jaw to add a little painful encouragement. "Swallow it. _Swallow. It._ I'm not letting go till you're either dead or you've swallowed the fucking roofies, _kankerlijer_." Tabre's throat convulsed, and after a cursory, and rather rough, check of his mouth, Zhalia was satisfied that he had taken her advice. She smacked the man across the face once before stepping back to lean on the wall behind the armchair. "All yours, Dante."

The detective crossed his arms and knocked the hard edge of his boot against the sputtering Romanian's shin. "Markus Tabre. You have something we want."

Both Lok and Sophie gaped at their mentor. Surely he wasn't going to condone what Zhalia had done! But instead of taking the spy's arm and pulling her aside, Dante just carried on like this was business as usual. Even Cherit, often the high voice of admittedly naïve sounding reason, merely shook his head slightly when Lok opened his mouth to protest.

The Titan had said it himself. Tabre was a bad man. Willingly shelling his services out to the Organization for pure personal gain was bad enough, but Tabre took it a massive step, hell he took it a giant leap, further by the choice of leisure activity evidenced by the little white pills.

No, Cherit had no qualms about forcefeeding the mobster his own vile medicine. Ten thousand years is a long time to observe humanity, and he had witnessed far too many people like Tabre slip away from justice.

As a private detective, Dante had seen his own fair share of lives destroyed by a seemingly innocent drink or shared ride with a man or woman that a victim thought they could trust. The drugs effects made it near impossible to prosecute, even with the shreds of evidence a detective of Dante's caliber could scrape up.

He was damn tired of it. Sometimes, even the good guys go just a little bad.

"Wha– Why'd you let her do that?" Tabre tried to scramble into a more upright position, sweaty hands slipping on the armrests. His beetle brown eyes flickered across the room and snagged on each face as they seemed to swim around him. "Who the fuck are you people?!"

Dante glanced over the frantic man's head and nodded to Zhalia. She seized Tabre's shoulders in an iron grip and dug her nails in, hissing, "He let me do that because unlike you, my friend here is a gentleman, and he doesn't take kindly to roofie-toting bags of sewer shit like you. You can either answer his questions in a timely fashion, or he and these two associates of ours can go for a 'coffee break,' and we can familiarize ourselves with _all_ the various dull cutting implements you can find in a hotel room. Just the two of us."

"You have a flash drive on you." Tabre whipped his now pale face back to focus on Dante when the elite Seeker spoke. There was already cold sweat speckling the Romanian's rough stubbled cheeks. "Our employers want it. Either you tell us where it is, or I take her up on the offer to buy us a round of espresso."

Tabre shook, lips trembling. When he didn't answer right away, Dante sighed and put his hands into his coat pockets. "Alright. Come on. I saw a good café that's still open."

The detective didn't even finish turning towards the door when the mobster tried to lurch to his feet and stop him before Zhalia yanked him back down. "Wait! Wait, no, no, please!" To the team's utter bewilderment and disgust he began franticly tugging at his belt, scrambling to loosen it.

Zhalia's fingers digging into the soft pressure points at the corners of his jaw and edge of his trachea froze him in place. "Watch it, meatbag." She nodded in Sophie's direction, noting the way the Casterwill had recoiled somewhat. "There's a _lady_ in the room. Show some fucking respect."

Tabre put his hands up as best he could. "O-okay, okay. The drive! It's sewn...sewn to the inside of my belt."

Moments later Lok had the honors of cutting a thin line down the inside cloth backing of the Romanian's freed belt. "Huh! That's pretty clever." The Irish Seeker smiled triumphantly as he held up a simple, black 32 GB flash drive no bigger than his thumbnail. "I could have sworn it would have been in the bottom of your shoe."

"If he was _clever_ he would have swallowed it." Zhalia sniped. "You better let fearless leader hold on to it, kid." Lok sheepishly handed over the drive to Dante, who safely stowed it in his shirt's front pocket. As he did, Zhalia wasted no time in seizing Tabre on both sides of his neck and squeezing hard for nearly a quarter of a minute until the man stopped twitching. "Alright. Dante, help me get this idiot on the bed. I can take care of the rest from here."

* * *

"…Remind me to never get on your bad side." Lok muttered as the team exited the hotel. Zhalia just scoffed and folded up the fifty Euro note she had swiped from Tabre's discarded wallet. "That was…kinda scary, Zhalia."

"That was only a taste, kid." The spy unhooked Sophie's choker from around her throat and passed it back to the Casterwill. In the more subdued yellows of the streetlights, the white scar was nearly lost in the natural shadows before her scarf covered it once more. "I have a particular skillset. It can be useful, but sometimes the Foundation is just a little too goodie two shoes to accept that it works."

Dante didn't speak up to defend his longtime employer and beliefs. Instead, he crammed his fists into his trench coat pockets and began the two block walk to the nearest taxi hub.

Internally, though, he had to grudgingly admit it. Zhalia's skills got results.

* * *

 _ **The following morning**_

Markus Tabre groaned and winced at the bright morning light coming through the windows. It was a long handful of moments for him to realize he was sprawled out on a wildly mussed up king size bed, clad only in his socks and briefs.

His head was _pounding_. It took him what felt like hours to roll his aching body up, staggering to the lavish marble washroom. On the way he nearly tripped over his pants and belt, still entangled together, where they had apparently been casually tossed the night before.

The shower had obviously been used recently, the floor still damp and a towel missing from the rack. As he splashed water on his face, Tabre grimaced at the lines of scratched welts and claw marks that adorned his tanned and muscled shoulders. Usually he wore those marks as a badge of pride, a clear sign to his posse that he had scored big the previous night.

Ugh, but what the hell _else_ had he scored? It felt like his first hangover after pounding tequila in Mexico, and got hit by a bus to boot.

He wiped off the excess water from his face and neck and stumbled blearily into the bedroom again. Christ, where the hell _was_ he? A bright white paper on the mahogany bedside table caught his eye with its disgustingly brilliant ability to reflect light. He reached for it, missed, then finally snagged it up and held it out to read.

A kiss of dark, nearly black, purple lipstick decorated the upper left corner of the page, and an elegant cursive hand read:

 _Had fun, handsome. I'll hit you up if I'm in town again. Took 50 euro for the blow. Room's paid for another night. You'll need it!_

 _~XxXxX,_

 _Sasha_

Markus Tabre blinked, squinting in the dim but somehow blaring light of the side lamp. He hadn't done coke in years, no wonder he was so fucked up. And all that booze at the bar, too. Damn.

He tossed the paper aside as his phone buzzed, stabbing needles into his eardrums. Chelli, his beefy head of security, was texting him, apparently for the eighth time in an hour. Tabre swatted the phone off the nightstand and let the battery pop out and skitter across the floor as he fell onto the bed. Chelli could wait.

Right now, all the Romanian mobster wanted was to sleep this damn hangover away.

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _So, yeah. Zhalia roofied a guy. To explain the last scene, the Foundation wanted them to make sure Tabre and his people wouldn't realize the drive was gone until the team had booked it out of the country and the info was far away with no way for him to track it or who took it. So roofies plus alcohol plus staged wild night of fake coke and fake sex gives someone a nasty hangover and enough anterograde amnesia mixed with Simplemind makes the guy think he just had one hell of a one night stand that just needs some sleeping off. No suspicion to check the belt for the drive, no worries._

 _I'm still having some problems with my stupid back so updates won't be as regular as before. I'll probably have some of a two part sick fic, a new idea for a Dante-sided version of 'Duly Noted' and maybe a few mini drabbles coughed up in the next two weeks. I'll try to have them out asap, but sitting in any form is not exactly comfortable and neither is laying on my stomach to type for hours at a time. So, sorry! Trade me your pelvis and this could all resolve itself and we can go back to more ficlets! :D_

 _Anyway, cheers mates! And thanks for hanging in there! Feel free to hit me up on tumblr to chat or ask questions or whatever {I'm so lonely...} under my username_ weirdponytail _. Expect random musings and Team Florida slice of life pics!_ _)_


	21. Mini Drabbles, pt 5

_TO ALL MY GUEST REVIEWERS: HI! I'm not ignoring you! I'm so happy you like the fics and drabbles! I love you all and hope to keep you guys happy with more! :D_

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _So, I figured I'd dump on the parade and toss out my headcanons on ages since I get a little grump when I see the wiki putting Dante at 28 and Zhalia at like…18 or something._

 _Personally, I usually peg Dante {…I chuckled a bit, bad Ket} at about 25-26. With Metz's illness, which we don't know when it set in but going by Hippolyta's appearance probably ten-ish years ago, Dante probably had to grow up fast, never mind being a bloody Seeker fighting a secret war against evil or whatever. So he's worldly, chock full of pessimistic optimism and very capable, but still young, spry and hey, he'll still act a little childish and goof a bit._

 _Zhalia is anywhere from 23-25, because fuck if we'll ever get timelines right since there are conflicting scenes and years when we get her flashbacks. My mom did some work with children who had been abandoned/neglected/malnourished, and when I would wait in her office after school I'd see kids who were supposed to be 10-12 look like they were 6-7, so size and whatnot is no good indicator. Plus, I'm of the opinion, which will be further explained in a drunk tumblr dump, that Klaus found Zhalia when she was probably around 7 or 8, and took pity on her. Klaus has reasons {that aren't his own} to act the we see in the show, again to be dumped in tumblr, so to me it makes sense._

 _So there! Insert blown raspberry here and grumpy crossed arms. Enjoy your drabbles!)_

* * *

 **Long Night (Mid S1)**

Dante Vale stared down into his bathtub.

Oh, man. He was _so_ not awake enough for this. Part of him questioned if he really _was_ awake, his mental image of reality not totally lining up with what he was seeing.

But no, he was awake. The clock was correctly flashing his brutal Monday morning five AM wakeup time. He even pinched himself, and that was before closing his eyes, turning a full circle, then opening them to make absolutely sure this wasn't some off the walls, cracked out trick of the light. He was totally awake, no question there.

He blinked again.

Ugh, yeah. Still awake. Had to be doubly sure.

No other way to explain it besides it being the truth. So, yes, that _really_ had to be Zhalia Moon sleeping fully clothed in his upstairs bathtub, possessively curled around a nearly empty bottle of vodka like it was a childhood teddy bear.

Dante mulled over what to do as he quietly pulled his sweatpants back on under the fluffy towel that was currently protecting his modesty. He needed to shower, but he wasn't going to use the downstairs guest washroom. Lok had taken over that one and left his boxers in unpredictable places. And shaking the woman awake would be a bad idea, a lesson the Lambert boy had managed to teach the entire team after Zhalia _literally_ kicked him out of her tent when he tried to rouse her after a particularly harrowing mission. The poor kid had a footprint bruise on his chest for nearly a week.

Dante had no urge to see her reaction to a simple hand on her shoulder while coming out of a drunken stupor. He liked his arm too much to lose it that way.

He was about to give up and just start his morning workout without a shower when his eye caught on the detachable showerhead.

The sight of it seemed to bring up repressed memories of sleeping in a car…and being awoken with a particularly violent pothole….

Ah, hell. She'd probably try and kill him for this at some point. Hopefully she would still be too drunk to remember it.

It took about half a second for Zhalia to register the icy water spraying her in the face. The woman jerked, whacking the back of her head against the wall of the bath as she let out a startled yelp and flailed a bit as she got her bearings. She could hear laughter as she sputtered and scrabbled around before managing to claw her way over the side of the tub and land soaking wet on the floor, spitting water and sodden hair out of her mouth.

"Good morning, _sunshine._ " Dante choked out through his mirth, dropping the still-running shower wand into the bathtub as Zhalia lay in the cold puddle that had collected on the tiles. "Did you have a long night off?"

His words seemed to snap the Foundation spy out of her confused state. "Fucking hell, Vale. Couldn't have just tapped my shoulder?"

"You're the one that fell asleep in the bathtub. _My_ bathtub. You really should have expected this." He couldn't stop the broad smile from splitting across his face. "Would you like a towel?"

Zhalia staggered upright, glaring at the detective through narrowed eyes. "I'm going to kill you one day, Dante Vale." She shoved past him out into the hall, ignoring the offered towel in favor of leaving a wet trail of petty vengeance through his house.

Dante just chuckled. "Yeah, I'm sure you will, Zhalia." He glanced back at the tub. "Hey! You forgot your vodka!"

"Drink it yourself! It'll put some fucking hair on your chest, Chippendales!"

The detective looked down at his hairless chest, then at the vodka in his hand.

He shrugged and took a hit.

* * *

 **Anomaly**

"It's not dyed."

"That's impossible." Sophie rolled her eyes and playfully flicked a bunched up little bit of takeout napkin at Zhalia from across the coffee table. The elder Seeker flinched at the motion, batting it away instinctively and nearly losing her hold on the suspiciously thick magazine she was reading. "Blue hair isn't a natural color."

"I never said it was _natural_ , I just said it wasn't _dyed_."

Lok, Cherit and Dante had all elected to take a shift guarding the Venice Safehouse for a few nights. It put Cleese at ease after the fiasco with the Professor, especially since the magical defenses hadn't been fully patched up yet. Their absence, however, left their two female teammates alone in Dante's house.

Sophie grinned and grabbed another tortilla chip from the shared bag on the table. A tiny little Tex-Mex place had opened in a scruffy alleyway a few blocks down. Zhalia had apparently found it during one of her late night walks and since then had introduced the rest of the team to its surprisingly healthy and admittedly delicious takeout meals. Even Le Blanche had approved of the place. "So, what, are you wearing a wig or something?"

"Why are you asking me about my hair?" It was Zhalia's turn to roll her eyes skyward, giving up on reading her 'magazine' while Sophie pestered her with questions. "Seriously princess, I have way better secrets than why my hair is fucking blue."

"Fine. Where did that scar on your neck come from?" The Casterwill toed dangerous territory with that one, but she knew if she pushed one issue enough, it would eventually wear the former spy down to reveal some info on less touchy subjects.

"And now we're back to the hair." Zhalia shot Sophie a scathing glare. "It's an anomaly."

"Oh, come on. You'll have to do better than that to get rid of me, Zhalia." Sophie jabbed her chip at the tiny container of guacamole she had ordered and admitted, "It's too quiet without the guys around here. And I'd usually enjoy that, but after all the fights over the last few weeks…" she trailed off, not able to put her feelings into words.

"Whatever. But I'm not kidding. It's an anomaly." Zhalia put her reading material down and sat up from where she had sprawled across an armchair. "There's spotty bits in my genetic code. Lots of Seekers have them." She gestured to her companion's bright green eyes. "Your eye pigmentation is probably one. Santiago's chakra mark, Lok's little glowing thing when he gets pissed, Dante's adaptability and strength. Sure, some of them show up in regular people, but in Seekers these sort of things appear much more often."

The Casterwill Heiress slowly lowered her chip. "…You're serious, aren't you?" The former spy nodded. "You've put some thought into this."

Zhalia was silent for a long moment. "You, uh…" She paused, rubbing the back of her neck. "You're a bookworm, right? Got any love for the sciences?"

Sophie shrugged. "I enjoy learning. Sciences aren't my strong point, but I do like the topic. Why? What's this have to do with the anomaly subject?"

"Come on. I'll show you."

Seconds later found them in Zhalia's guest room, a beaten and thick square of paper in the former spy's hand. A short Bubblelift unfolded the paper, soon revealing exactly why Zhalia had to use a spell to spread it out onto the empty wall across from her bed.

It was nearly as long and tall as the wall itself, pieces of printer paper, cardboard, even what looked to be shreds of vellum all taped and tacked together. There were obvious coffee mug rings on plenty of the pieces, scribbles of tight notes and bits of maths scattered all over the margins of the apparent main features, which were odd circles made up of lines and codes and letters.

Zhalia stepped back and observed the paper monstrosity, hands in her pockets. Sophie was surprised to see that she looked rather… _shy_. "This is…well it's something I've been working on."

"It's certainly impressive." Sophie raised her eyebrows and jabbed the former spy with a good natured elbow to the ribs. "Tell me what it really is, Zhalia."

"They're Seeker genomes. I coded a program to map them out from blood samples I put into the Technomicon." It took a moment for the words to sink in. "It's like a hobby, I guess. I wanted to know what makes us tick. Seeker powers, our ability to bond with Titans, our Anomalies…Casterwill kicked it off, but what predisposes some of us to becoming Seekers and others to remaining powerless? It's got to be the genetics, right?"

Sophie took a moment to pick her jaw up off the floor. "You…you did all this?" Again, Zhalia nodded. "Zhalia, you're a bloody genius aren't you?"

The woman scoffed. "I'm not telling you my IQ, princess. That doesn't matter." She scuffed her boot on the floor, shoulders hunching up. "It's just a stupid little hobby, really. I don't tell people about it. They think I'm crazy enough as it is with all the spying and subterfuge and shit."

"No! No, Zhalia, this is absolutely incredible…." The Casterwill leaned closer to the ragtag document, examining the highlighted codes that seemed to repeat in nearly every genome map. Somewhere in that code was the key to what made Seekers what they are. As she did, a thought struck her as odd, and she straightened to voice it to her teammate. "Why show this to _me_? I mean, I know we're getting along better, and I count you as my friend, but…"

Zhalia just shrugged. "You've got a good brain, princess. If anyone would appreciate it in the Foundation, it'd be you. This stuff goes all the way back to Casterwill. Who the hell knows, maybe we could find some family for you in all these little genomes."

Sophie grew suspicious at the impish grin that began slowly appearing on Zhalia's face. "Oh, and also because I can point out on here the Anomaly that gives Seekers blue hair. It was either that or strip to prove to you that yes, the carpet matches the drapes."

"Oh, bloody hell!" Sophie spun on her heel and marched out of the room, face flaming scarlet as Zhalia's laughter followed her down the hall.

* * *

 **Logosbook**

 **Day 42**

 **(Spiral Shenanigans #1)**

' _Red dearest, what's the weirdest shit you've had to deal with today?_ '

Dante raised an eyebrow at the question scrawled in his Logosbook. This was one of the latest messages sent from their spy behind the lines, the report of her group of Spirals moving around a city in Montana of all places having ended an hour before this last snippet came through.

' _Probably Den giving Lok a vicious wedgie while we were supposed to be out doing scouting runs. What's happened?'_

The book was silent for a long moment. Dante figured she needed the time to stare at the response in flabbergasted surprise, though it wasn't _that_ much of a surprise considering that the perpetrator was Den. Then:

' _I have no fucking idea who did it, but one of these Spiral brats ordered 22 pizzas for delivery to our warehouse base._

 _Do you know what a 19 year old Domino's driver looks like when he realizes he's bringing food to either a fucked up costume party complete with frothing at the mouth teenagers or a satanic cult sleepover with matching pajamas? He looks like he's about to piss himself in a combination of fear and laughter._ '

Dante had to put the book down and brace himself on his knees. The Blood Spirals were suddenly feeling way less threatening. He managed to wipe a tear from his eye before he doubled over in laughter again.

' _Dante? You better not be ignoring this. I'm getting close to tossing some of these kids into a fucking lake. Tantras gave me the idea with what he did to the delivery guy.'_

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Guess who got their back fixed up? This crazy lady! Much relief, much sitting. Much typing._

 _That last one was just me spitting things onto the page. No idea where it came from. But come on. A handful of 13-14 year old cultists with a few adults to add to the mix plus a pissy bodyguard and a fanatic old man? Of_ course _someone would prank call a pizza delivery._

 _I_ think _I got my Tumblr thing fixed, or at least the ask stuff. So hit me up, mates! Cheers!_

 _And no. No, I did not reread these to check for errors this time. Thhbbt!)_


	22. Defiant (Throwaway Drabble)

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _HELLO! This is a throwaway bit. I wrote it probably a month ago. I deemed it 'too dark' to post, then my dumbass went ahead and put Killer out there and *impish shrug* whoopsie! It's pretty damn light compared to that._

 _If you've noticed a darker trend to these, I do apologize. I've been of a bit of a twitchy character lately, and as classes come up it just gets worse. I'll try to put some more funny/fluffy stuff out there soon, but until I get this worked out of my system I'm kinda dredging around for scraps._

 _As I haven't posted for several days I just kinda wanted to put this out there to assure you all that_ I'm not dead! _and give myself a dark little chuckle at Zhalia on Sodium Pentothal. Because if you thought we could have a spy without some truth serum…well, yeah you thought very wrong and should be ashamed. Or not. I don't know there's a lot of caffeine and emotions going on._

 _Cheers mates!)_

* * *

 **Defiant (Throwaway drabble)**

It felt like days.

Zhalia knew it probably had only been one or two at the most. Hell, it could have only been a few hours. Time was a fickle thing when you're chained to a wall and beat all to hell.

Her wrists were raw from chaffing in the rusted bonds. She had learned the hard way that her captors were smart when it came to keeping their prisoners locked up. All she had to show for her usual trick of dislocating her thumb and wrist to slip out of handcuffs was a broken thumb and a split lip from when they found her struggling against the still constricting magical trap set in the metal.

The things she did for those damn kids. After this mission she'd start demanding they draw straws for who got to be the decoy that drew enemy fire in tight spots.

Ah hell. No she wouldn't. Okay, maybe if Sophie was being particularly mouthy but never the Fears boys. And Lok was a good kid, if still a little naïve, and coming into his own as a Seeker.

Ugh, her mind was a fucking faucet right now, and someone had taken the damn valve with them. Probably the asshole with the shitty rat mustache who had stuck her in the neck with a syringe full of Pentothal. Not her first time with the barbiturate and despite her relatively new Foundation agent status she wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't her last. Seriously, these guys always watched too many spy movies.

The damn stuff just makes you talk. It screws with higher cortical functions, which _apparently_ makes people think it'll stop you from lying. Not that it ever stopped Zhalia from lying. That just came too naturally for her.

It just pissed her off more than anything really. She was still pissed when the dipshits came back, chattering to each other in Russian. They knew she understood them and spent a few minutes discussing what they wanted to do to her next, going into grisly detail as they swapped her bounds out from the wall to the pulley in center of the room.

How fucking clichéd. Zhalia was well versed in the intricacies of proper interrogation torture, and both fortunately and unfortunately, these guys were not. They only asked the same general question, really more of an order, and they never followed through on doing what they would talk about doing to her. Yeah, once or twice they tried graduating from beating her like a fucking piñata to using a torch and screwdriver to burn lines of charred flesh into her forearms, but the smell of burnt skin and muscle seemed to actually turn their stomachs.

Any dark Seeker worth their salt would have known using a concentrated Boltflare would be more effective. But these idiots seemed to be _scared_ of their powers. They were new to the Seeker world, but were sure that it was their key to taking what little power they could in their backass end of nowhereville in the middle of Russia.

For someone who had been trained to resist torture via little horror devices burrowing into her skin and clamping onto her nerves to shock her for hours at a time, as well as countless other mundane physical methods such as whipping and beating and burning and drowning, this was all weak shit.

Oh. Hold on. One of them was talking _to_ her, in mangled English.

"Tell us all you know about Huntik Foundation."

"That's a big subject there, buddy." Despite her battered state, Zhalia idly swung from her ropes. They had long ago taken her shirts from her and left her in her sports bra to better gauge the injuries they dealt, and the movement of air against her skin was somewhat soothing. "You guys really don't do this too often, huh? _Specifics_." A fist connected with her bruised stomach, nearly doubling her over before the chain yanked taut. " _Ah_ shit, right in the fucking ovaries. I don't need 'em right now but still, man. Give the ladies some respect."

"Tell us who leader is!"

"Currently my country of origin's prime minister is this guy called Rutte. I'm not there enough to give a shit on policy, so if you're looking for political commentary you'll have to kidnap a more involved Hollander." A new split opened on her cheek, pouring fresh blood down her face. "Oooh, you mean the _Foundation_ leader. Yeah, no, still too broad. Why are you even in the Seeker business anyway? This city is abandoned, you don't have anything to rule. It's a waste of power, dumbass."

That was apparently a sore subject. When the former spy next woke she was in a heap on the ground below the pulley, nose broken and a new set of cracked ribs making breathing hell. The barbiturates had worn off, her mind once again a foggy haze of pain and boredom instead of a practically cocaine fueled mental motormouth.

 _Christ,_ would those damn kids send a team already? If she had to listen to the same damn questions any more she'd probably start telling them Dante's recipe for turkey sandwiches and pass it off as a top secret spell formula.

Wait, would that actually work?

...Nah. Apparently the pentothal hadn't _completely_ worn off yet.

The faint scent of cigar smoke managed to get past the blood clogging her nose. The fat little man who had been asking her questions earlier was sitting in a lawn chair, watching her and smoking. He was a new face for the crew, and held the airs of a man who believed he was king.

Zhalia _hated_ people who put on airs.

"Your operation is shit. I don't think I've said it that way yet, have I? I called it a clusterfuck earlier." Zhalia hocked a mouthful of blood onto the man's shiny black shoes. She had been aiming for the dirty but half full wine glass beside them, but one of her eardrums was ruptured and it did hell to her balance and aim. "You're new to the game and have no clue who or what you're up against."

The man leaned forward, the lawn chair creaking, and exhaled twin jets of pungent smoke through his nose. "That why we take blue hair bitch. Give us intel. Take out Foundation." He smiled, revealing surprisingly even teeth that were offset by yellow nicotine stains.

"Oh my fucking god, you seriously have no clue." The former spy shifted onto her side and then up onto her knees, ignoring how her body screamed in protest. New blotches of blood welled up from her near bare torso, staining the waistband of her jeans. "You'd literally be better off trying to sell smack cut with drain cleaner, or however you cracked out business types like to make the stuff nowadays." She rolled her neck, feeling the aching muscles spasm in response. "The Foundation wouldn't have even noticed you then, especially if you didn't use your powers. You could have had a nice profit going. A morally and ethically disgusting profit, but then you wouldn't be wiped out because you managed to capture the wrong agent."

The little man laughed, a confident belly laugh that betrayed just how little he understood. "Crush Foundation like cockroach!" He suddenly seized Zhalia's face and yanked her towards him, fat fingers crowded with rings digging painfully into the soft underside of her jaw. "I use monster on you next, blue bitch."

"They're called _Titans_. And honestly, that's _still_ pussyfooting it if you want to get anything out of me." Out of the corner of her bloodshot eye, Zhalia saw the liquid in the man's chipped wineglass shudder. She had long ago realized the room was near perfectly soundproof, both from the inside and out. She nearly commended them for their use of sensory deprivation before she realized they were holding her in an abandoned recording studio. "But honesty isn't my strong suit. Do you know why, you толстый маленький мудозвон? I'll let you in on a little secret here."

The man stiffened at the insult, gnashing his stained teeth. "Tell me your Foundation secrets." He snarled, releasing Zhalia's jaw only to seize a handful of her hair and begin putting out his cigar on the fresh gash on her cheek.

The searing pain was _so_ worth it as the liquid in the glass jumped again. "Well, it's because I'm the Foundation's one and only spy and assassin. Lying's just more my thing." She hissed, baring her teeth in a twisted smile. "Oh, and I just so happen to be the top Foundation agent's girlfriend, so that has a few perks.

"Like this one."

A resounding crash shook the entire building as Metagolem ripped away the wall of the room, showering the two people inside with concrete dust.

The little man shrieked in terror, dropping his cigar and flipping over his straining lawn chair as he scrambled to escape the massive Litho-Titan. In no time he was scooped up and lifted by his ankles, and Metagolem straightened to carry him off through the ruined building behind him.

"Hey, hot stuff." Zhalia called in greeting, shaking dust from her hair. The movement made her dizzy, and she paused for a moment to find her equilibrium again.

In that short time Metagolem's Seeker had leapt over the remains of the destroyed wall and was cupping her face in his hands. Dante looked absolutely wild, bloody knuckles and bloodshot eyes screaming crazy. He sliced off the ropes around her wrists and began healing as many of her injuries as he could in between frantic sentences.

"I should have been there, I should have skipped the council meeting, this is all my fault."

"Dante–"

"No! I'm going to kill that bastard, every mark he made on you I'll give him fucking _twenty_ and strangle the fucking life out of him with my bare hands!" Dante's voice was growing steadily louder, his whole body trembling.

"Dante, I'm–"

"Fuck! Zhalia, I can't do this without you. I can't stand you being hurt like this, not for such a stupid fucking reason, not for _any_ reason! Jesus, look at you! I thought we were going to lose you, the twins were fucking frantic, _I_ was fucking frantic, Metz nearly took me off the search, but I'm going to make it right to you, I promise, I'm going to fucking _kill them_ and–"

"Babe! _Shut. UP_!" And with that Zhalia slapped him with all the strength she had left. He stared at her, dumbfounded. "I'm okay! I'm fine. You're here now, and that's all I needed." In silent apology she leaned in and rested her forehead on his shoulder, eyes sliding closed. She hadn't realized she was this tired until she saw his face again. Dante meant safety. He always did.

His shaking arms gently wrapped around her bloody frame, careful to avoid her many wounds as he held her to him. He could feel her heartbeat thrumming through his chest, mingling with his until they synced in perfect harmony again. The steady beat washed over him in a wave of calm, and the world was nearly right again.

"Zhaal, you're not alright. You're covered in blood." Dante murmured softly.

He felt her smile tightly into his coat. "To be honest I think I've been in shock for a while." Her arms snaked around his neck as he shifted and lifted her up. "Thanks for saving me, Dante."

Dante pressed his lips to her burning forehead as he followed Metagolem's path of destruction through the abandoned studio to meet with the waiting medics and the rest of the Huntik team. "For you, Zhalia, any time." He added quickly, "But let's not make this a habit."

"That sounds like a very good idea."


	23. Mini Drabbles, pt 6

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Some of these might be a little familiar to tumblr people. But that's okay, there's plenty of new stuff too!_

 _Real A/N is at the bottom because there are some things that only make sense after reading._

 _Cheers you lot!)_

* * *

 **He's a Demon… He's a Devil…**

Zhalia Moon was no stranger to demons. She had plenty, all clawing and biting at her soul each and every day. They were muted somewhat by her new path in life, but she had long ago accepted that they would always be there, as a part of her as her tawny skin. She didn't like them, but tolerated them, kept them on a leash until her darker skills were needed to protect the lives and ways of her team.

She only had one devil, though. And that devil had dark auburn hair and golden amber eyes.

She tangled her fingers in that thick hair of his and felt his nails dig into her side as they kissed with as much heat and passion as the fires of hell itself. Zhalia was barely coherent enough to muse that she would never tame this devil of hers.

And as his teeth made their way down her neck the final threads of her sanity told her one simple fact:

No one, not even her, could ever chain Dante Vale.

* * *

 **The Edge**

Zhalia knew what it was like to be on the edge of dying

Plenty of Seekers knew a bit of that feeling. The utter exhaustion that drags at the limbs when forced to the limit, pushed into summoning one more Titan or using one more power. Fuzzy grey edges that creep in when Soulburn is used one too many times. The painful thud of a heart that's been impacted a bit too hard in the last blast wave or traded blow.

Those feelings were _close_ to dying. They were a few steps from the abyss, close enough to see down into its endless depths and feel fear for life but not close enough to teeter there between light and oblivion. They could still step back, had enough purchase to keep themselves from slipping down.

Others had stood where Zhalia had. That very edge between dusk and night, so thin that it felt like the dull ache of a blade that has cut so deep and rested there so long that any slight movement to either side meant agonizing pain but stillness promised a somehow comforting pressure.

Zhalia knew that balancing act well.

The first time she peered into Death's eyes she was still a small child. It was winter and she had lost her coat. The stalls that used to line the streets selling fruits and snacks and junk had all long closed.

No food. Little warmth.

Somehow, the hazy numbness of a near comatose body but semi-conscious mind was…soothing. Comforting in the way that the heavy blanket of almost-sleep weighs down on the dreamer when they lay in bed with eyes closed as they gently wake to the dawn.

Then there was hunger. It's a funny thing, really. The sharp pains gnawing at her stomach had stopped two days ago. She stopped feeling sick at the thought of chewing food a day after they disappeared.

Now she was just hollow. Curled up on a mat of cardboard and tucked around a sweating steam pipe in the factory district. Newspaper and pink fluffs of fiberglass insulation sandwiched together around her little frame.

A numb thought floated through her half aware mind as she watched the smokestacks belch cloud into the steel gray sky.

No wonder she never grew in the winter. She needed fuel. She didn't have any.

Klaus had found her hours later, scooping her tiny body up. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, only stare ahead with glassy eyes. Some little voice wondered why Klaus was so angry but so sad too, his own eyes filled with unshed tears as he gently strapped her into the car and drove her to the airstrip.

When she had recovered somewhat, sitting up in the bed squirreled away in a dark corner of his Vienna bookshop, he had seized her rail thin shoulders and shook her roughly. He yelled at her to never give up like that again. That her fighting spirit had been what drew him to her and to throw it away would be like throwing _everything_ away. Throwing him away, throwing them away, throwing _life_ away.

She promised she'd never give up again.

So the next time she danced on that knife's edge of life and death, feet sliced to the bone and bleeding, Zhalia threw her head back and laughed at the darkness trying to swallow her whole.

The next time she looked in Death's face was the day she learned that she could survive having her throat cut.

All she had to do was throw her head back as they bared her unmarked neck, and _laugh_.

* * *

 **Tension**

There was a bit of a stand off going on.

Actually, it was more of a leaning stand off. Sort of.

Dante had his hands braced on the island in the kitchen, amber eyes glaring at what could very well be considered his father-in-law. His dull nails tapped the underside of the counter in time with the ticking clock high on the wall.

Klaus glared back, skeletal arms crossed and long white hair tied back in a thin ponytail. He had wisely surrendered his cane before even entering his former enemy's home, knowing that there would be a good bit of temptation to use it for something beyond its intended purposes before long.

Yeah. He was still getting over the fact that his surrogate daughter was both living and sleeping with the Foundation's number one Seeker.

Klaus wanted her to be happy, and would support her decision without a single word of complaint. But literal years of the Professor and Araknos feeding hate and propaganda into his mind was a _little_ hard to shake.

Not to mention Dante had a few grudges of his own.

Everyone else had quickly vacated the room when they noticed the little subtle posturing going on. Lok, Sophie and Cherit had seen enough of Klaus's handiwork to know when to clear out, and the Fears twins had seen enough of Dante's to know that if something big was about to go down it would be best to be a few kilometers away.

Something snapped.

Dante's eyes narrowed.

Klaus's thin lips turned in a sneer.

Both nearly jumped out of their skin when a knife suddenly whizzed between them and embedded itself up to the hilt in the wall.

As one, former Organization and current Foundation shakily turned their heads to follow the blade's trajectory.

"Well, now." Zhalia drawled. She was leaned against the doorway, arms crossed casually. Both men gulped, knowing that despite the easy stance the woman was seething just below the surface. "You really _can_ cut tension with a knife."

She glared at them as they fidgeted, Dante suddenly taking an interest in his kitchen décor while Klaus examined the knife hilt sticking out of the plaster. "Do I need to babysit you two, or are you going to be grown-ass men and shake hands? Klaus," She addressed her mentor first. "Yeah, this is awkward. But to be totally honest, I'm enjoying my life with Dante. If you put that Pentothal you brought into his drink and question him about his fidelity, all you're going to get is uncensored stories of our sex life."

Zhalia turned her attention to Dante, who was at this point trying to hide a triumphant grin at Klaus's barked German swearing. "You aren't getting off easy, either." She paused, debating a juvenile remark. "Pun intended. But Klaus saved my life. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here. If I hadn't tried to kill you, _we_ wouldn't be here. It's _literally_ the foundation of the start of our relationship. Besides trust. But that's not the point. You have to tolerate my so-called father tinkering with your radio until it turns into a mentally controlled drone. I've seen him do it.

"Now unless you want me calling Metz so we _both_ can scold you like two year olds and send you to timeout, _shake hands and man the fuck up._ "

Dante and Klaus exchanged glances.

Well.

This was going to be a tough decision….

* * *

 **Rain**

"You can get _under_ the umbrella. You know that, right?" Dante peered out from under the dry sanctuary his umbrella provided, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Zhalia kicked a puddle of water at his face in response, grinning from ear to ear. She was walking on the short wall that protected the canal, keeping pace with her partner. The pouring rain had turned her blue hair pitch black, flattening it into razor straight ropes.

"Come on, hot stuff." The streetwise Seeker splashed him again, boots and socks tied to her belt while her bare feet provided perfect balance on the wet surface. "Every kid played in the rain. Even a fucked up one like me." Zhalia reached out a hand and smacked the edge of Dante's umbrella, showering him with further droplets as they rebounded and bounced inwards. They caught in his beard and mustache, sparkling like little diamonds in the gray light. "Live a little, babe!"

Dante just chuckled and tipped the umbrella towards his sodden girlfriend, letting the torrential downpour skim off the side and waterfall at her feet. "I think that last cup of chai was a bit much."

"Well maybe _you_ just didn't have _enough_." Zhalia smirked. "Come on, Dante, really! Play in the rain with me!" When her partner just laughed and shook his head, she jumped the next few paces and sent water scattering everywhere. "Fine, killjoy. Look at you, taking my job."

Putting her arms out like a tightrope walker, the woman turned her palms to the sky and savored the rain that poured over her skin. It wasn't cold, but it wasn't a fully warm one either. It was the perfect balance of lukewarm to feel both comforting and refreshing, falling at a thick rate that soaked through clothes without giving them time to feel prickly and uncomfortably half dry.

It really was perfect

"I ever tell you that this was one of my favorite things growing up?"

Dante looked up again. The small smile on Zhalia's face wasn't the smirk she had moments ago, but was more of a gentle grin of sad reminiscence. It tilted the corners of her lips up only just, a sliver of peace in the torrential rain.

Dante couldn't help but adore the way it seemed to smooth out the stress and tension in her body, one of the few moments Zhalia had of absolute calm that he, of all the people in the world, had the pleasure of witnessing.

He hated to break the moment but felt his lips moving of their own accord. "No. I don't think you have." The detective reached out slowly, keeping his pace as he tried to brush his fingertips against the back of his partner's hand.

If Zhalia noticed his movement she showed no sign of it. The water felt soft as it fell through her fingers, the air warm and heavy with moisture. "Rains like these were a chance to get clean. Everything felt better afterwards. And sometimes people left stuff behind when they got caught in it, so it was a chance to grab a new jacket or some cash." Her smile broadened. "I guess it made life out there more of living instead of just surviving."

Dante's soft smile matched her own. "I'm glad you have happy memories, Zhalia."

"Aw, thanks. I'm glad you don't mind me sharin' em." With a cheeky flick of her wrist the former spy again managed to sling water at her boyfriend, never faltering from her straight-line march across the wall. "These were always great until–"

A bolt of lightning suddenly snapped its away across the sky, its bright white light turning everything around to stark black and white relief for the briefest of moments. A deafening crack of thunder followed on its heels, the crackle of what sounded like reality itself ripping apart heralding a cataclysmic boom that Dante _felt_ as a heavy thud deep in his chest.

A second, more moderate thud followed, stopping him in his tracks, and the Foundation's Finest couldn't help but raise his eyebrows when he looked down to find the source. He chuckled and wrapped his free arm around Zhalia's shoulders to pull her closer, soothing the sudden tremors that ran down her frame.

She pressed her face into his coat, swearing softly at the heat the burned her cheeks. The combination of Dante's firm body lending safety and Gareon's quiet mental comfort relaxed her enough to speak. "This isn't happening and if you tell anyone I'm scared of _anything_ I'll–"

"You'll reconsider killing me." Dante pressed a kiss to the top of his sodden partner's head. "I know. I love you too."

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Fun fact! It doesn't_ ensure _survival, but that Hollywood trick of yanking a person's head way back and slitting their throat? Yeah that's actually what NOT to do if you want them to die. It pulls the carotid and jugular further apart to the outer sides of the neck and bunches some muscles to the front. Once cut, the victim can actually flop their head forward and, if lucky, actually 'close' the cut by tucking their chin down, giving them an airway to breathe and slowing the blood flow. So that explains the 'throw head back' bit, and why it's something that saved Zhalia's life. Justifying my neck scar headcanon, hell yeah._

 _Klaus and Dante doing posturing in Dante's house was a must. Also, that whole 'huh, you really_ can _cut tension with a knife.' bit has been on my mind for literal weeks. Just needed to figure out where to put it._

 _Common headcanon that Zhalia's not too comfortable with thunder is common. But it does make_ some _sense. So I tossed it in there._

 _First drabble was very very lightly based off Betty Hutton's_ He's a Demon He's a Devil He's a Doll _, as well as Hozier's_ Arsonist's Lullaby. _Songfics! Getchyer songfics!_

 _Alright that's enough. Cheers mates!)_


	24. Nightmares, pt 1

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Also posted on tumblr because I wanted to do a little bit of a headcanon where Dante is fine with being the little spoon. Come on. You can't be that calm, collected and badass without needing hugs when no one but your life partner is looking. Dante Vale, the greatest Seeker of his generation, needs cuddles. Especially after a sleep paralysis episode.)_

* * *

 **Nightmares, pt 1 (Post S2)**

Dante's eyes flared open.

His heart felt like it would explode out of his chest, hammering against the back of his ribs with a vengeance. The impacts constricted his breathing to the point that it felt like iron bands were ratcheting down on his torso, straining to contain him as his brain screamed for him to move.

The room was nearly black besides the hazy red light that filtered through the window at his back. For anyone else, the light would have comforted them as it gently illuminated their surroundings. But for Dante, all it did was cast light on the horror before his eyes.

There was a figure coming towards him, little more than a skeleton with scraps of scarlet rags and golden threads hanging off its papery grey skin. Dante struggled to put his hands up, get his legs under him, _anything_ to defend himself as the tattered remains of the Betrayer stepped toward his bed on withered legs. But he could only twitch feebly, jerking slightly with the increased terror of being trapped in his own damn body.

He didn't want to die again and he didn't want to leave. He had too much here. He had Zhalia, and he had Lok and Sophie and damn he was practically raising the Fears boys with Zhalia and he realized that he had a _family_ now, not just Metz watching over him and the idea of leaving all of them again after the Red Comet nearly burst his heart out of his ribcage because he was fucking _terrified_ of the pain and grief it could cause and the pain this dusty, freeze dried piece of evil beef jerky on legs could inflict on him for foiling his master plans scared him too and–

"Dante."

A gentle touched pressed against his back for a moment at the soft call of his name. The elite Seeker _whined_ through the squeezing lump in his throat when the contact vanished as quickly as it came.

Then the light clicked on.

The skeletal figure crumbled to dust before Dante blinked and the grey pile was simply gone, replaced by the rug under his bed.

Dante let out a ragged gasp, curling in on himself as shudders wracked his finally responding body. His torso ached with the trauma that the paralysis event had wrought, taxing his system to the maximum with adrenaline and fear. His side of the bed was soaked with cold sweat.

Dark blue hair brushed his bare shoulder as Zhalia, ever attuned to noises in the night, propped herself up on an elbow and leaned over him. "Babe, it's okay. Breathe." A lithe hand ghosted across his heaving chest and rested over his still pounding heart. "Just breathe…."

The man swallowed and nodded, fighting to slow his breathing. His partner's gentle fingers grounded him, and he reached up and grasped them in his own. She was real and solid and there for him, and as her grip tightened in his he knew she would never leave.

Slowly, with the help of Zhalia's tender manipulations of his nerves and the calming touch of her hands, Dante's heart rate eased back to a manageable pace. He breathed deeply for a few minutes before rolling over to his opposite side and facing his partner, hoping he looked better than his body felt.

Zhalia combed his sweaty hair from his face, still resting her hand on his chest to measure each beat of his heart. With the lamp behind her casting her face in shadow, Dante couldn't pin down her expression, but was placated in his worry by her placing a kiss on his clammy forehead. "You're okay."

"I'm okay." Dante gave the woman he loved a small, shaky smile. "Thanks for getting me out."

"You've done the same for me." With a tug that gave him no choice in the matter, Zhalia pulled Dante closer so that his head rested on her arm. He accepted the gesture without complaint and even nuzzled closer to his girlfriend.

He had to admit, letting go of some of the gender role stereotypes and letting Zhalia take the comforting defender position when he was such a damn wreck had done wonders for him. There was something innately comforting in being held, and after nightmares and concussions and all sorts of wild things that occurred in the daily lives of Seekers, sometimes Dante just liked having his hair gently toyed with while he lay across Zhalia's lap.

"Do you want me to keep the light on?" Dante shook his head and closed his eyes as the lamp clicked off. Zhalia's arms settled around him protectively, and with a feeling of peace the elite Seeker let himself drift back to sleep once again.

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Sorry if the writing style put ya off a bit with the long run ons and no punctuation bits. Rambling in fear. Whatever._

 _Anyway, I'd like to call out to any and everyone who has had sleep paralysis. I've only experienced it a handful of times, one of which didn't really count because I didn't see anything {because my face was pressed into my pillow and I was suffocating until I could move again} and I can't remember much of the episodes. I hope I portrayed it all right and I know it can be a real problem for some people, so if something I wrote was wrong or I have inadvertently offended someone, please let me know. Ignorance remains ignorance until corrected._

 _Cheers you lot!)_


	25. Drive Thru (Humor Mini Drabble)

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Tied into the headcanon I posted on tumblr that Seeker powers and Titan summoning burns crazy amounts of calories {aka energy} and after missions Seekers need to scarf down as much food as possible to replenish their body._

 _Also, six Seekers plus drive thru fast food? Yeah I needed that situation in my head.)_

* * *

 **Drive Thru**

"Hello!" Dante smiled at the very bored looking young man at the order window. The elite Seeker had his elbow hanging out the front window as he leaned over to order. It was late, actually on the cusp of being early, but after a hell of a mission that took forty-seven nonstop hours, no one on the team was really on a normal body clock.

The employee blinked slowly and let out a long sigh. "Welcome to Burger Busters, may I take your order?"

Unfazed by his attitude, Dante rattled off the usual post-mission order. "Could we get twelve double cheeseburgers, six chicken crisper sandwiches, seven large fries, and…Zhaal, you want anything besides the fries?"

Zhalia pulled one of her earbuds out. "Huh? Oh. Two crispers and two triple stacks. Thanks, babe."

"No problem. Sorry, so that's eight chicken crispers and two triple stack burgers–"

Den's head suddenly popped up between the two front seats. "Oh! Do you guys have those apple pie things?"

"This isn't McDonalds, sit your ass back down." Zhalia put her hand on Den's face and pushed him away, sending him tumbling back down the middle walkway of the van.

Not a second later Harrison replaced his brother, cheeks looking even more gaunt than usual in the ghostly white lights of the drive thru. "Can I get forty nuggets? With honey mustard?"

"And fifty nuggets with honey mustard and sweet barbeque, please." Dante added. At the questioning look Harrison gave him for the increased number the detective just shrugged. "Cherit likes their barbeque sauce."

Den whined from where he was stuffed behind Lok and Sophie's middle seats in the van. "Hey! Why did Harrison get to ask for stuff?"

Zhalia rolled her eyes. "Because he's scrawny and you get fifths every time Dante makes sandwiches." She again put her hand on the invading face and shoved it back. "Put your damn seat belts back on. I'm not cleaning your face prints off the windshield again. Sophie, Lok, make sure they buckle up."

"Aye-aye, madame capy-tan." Lok saluted and turned in his seat to push both the Fears boys into their respective sides of the back row and clip them in, ignoring their protests and more than a few slaps to the back of his head.

Dante kept the broad smile plastered on his face as he looked back to the frizzy haired youth at the order window. "Aaannd I _think_ that's everything. Thanks," He squinted at the young man's nametag, " _Michael._ "

Michael blinked again and creaked his order screen to face the crowded van. "Uhh…this correct?" After six months working third shift next to a university campus, not much surprised him anymore.

"Yep, looks like everything!"

The monitor squeaked again as it was turned back. "Your total is seventy two pounds and ninety five pence." The youth droned. "Please pull up to the–" He stopped midsentence, pressing the button on his headset with the same sleepy energy that infected his voice. "What? …Okay. Okay. I'll tell them." He lowered his hand and looked at the Seekers with dead, food service worker eyes. "Yeah, the boss says you guys have to park while the stuff gets made." He blinked twice, long and slow as he contemplated spicing his late shift up a bit. "And he says you lot are probably bloody kooks."

"Your boss is _not_ wrong." Sophie muttered, scrolling through her phone. She pulled her credit card from the back of her case and passed it over Dante's shoulder without looking up. "Here. Put it on mine."

After a few awkward moments trying to first slide, then tap the chipped card, Dante paid and pulled into the reserved space for pending orders and turned the engine off. It was silent for a short time before Zhalia pulled her earbuds out again.

"The sad thing is, that's not even the most food we've ordered in one go."

Lok grinned. "Two hundred thirty eight Euros and eighteen cents. Foundation record." He kicked his legs out as far as he could without hitting the back of Zhalia's seat and fold his hands behind his head in smug, juvenile satisfaction.

Dante shook his head and chuckled. "Plaque on headquarters wall and everything."


	26. The Lucas Problem, pt 1

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Part one of that Lucas drabble I've been bashing out. Everyone is a little OoC, Lucas is a rude and grumpy jerk, and Zhalia sets him straight about toying with the Fears brothers abandonment issues. Dante is just as protective of the brothers as his girlfriend is, and Lok and Sophie take their roles as 'big happy family don't mess with us' quite seriously. Feel free to critique the parts with the Casterwill team, I'm still very shaky on how to write them. :3 cheers!)_

* * *

 **The Lucas Problem, pt 1**

It was a rather crowded week at the Venice Casterwill Townhouse.

See, there had been a bit of emergency remodeling at Dante's house. The various attempts by Blood Spirals to break his home defenses had, in a final cosmic act of petty vengeance after their demise, managed to collapse the shields two weeks _after_ the defeat of the Betrayer.

And it also collapsed part of the plumbing. So until further notice, Dante and Lok were crashing at Sophie's place.

To make it even _more_ crowded, not to mention slightly awkward for Harrison, Zhalia had appeared with the Fears boys with an order from Foundation HQ to move out of her apartment due to multiple threats on her and Harrison's lives. Due to a few being anonymously sent from what appeared to be low tier Casterwills and even a few Foundation foot soldiers, not to mention the remaining Blood Spirals, the former spy thought it best to take refuge with the actual Casterwill leader.

With Sophie's influence and protection, Zhalia would actually sleep a little better than in a hotel, knowing that any carried out threats from Casterwills would be met with something they feared worse than death: Excommunication. Harrison would be safe with the team and Zhalia watching him until they found a suitable apartment that would quickly be rendered safely invisible via 'Does Not Exist' Foundation blacklisting.

Then _Lucas_ showed up, Dellix and Lane at his heels. "Family time," he had said. Though honestly, it looked as if one of the other Casterwill elders had pinched his ear and told him to get to know his sister a little better now that they weren't in danger of being shot at every few minutes. Seeing as Sophie hadn't heard a word from her brother since the final conflict, it came as quite the surprise.

The team had all groaned a bit when they heard that Lucas was going to be around. Sure, he was a _little_ more tolerable than when they first met, and everyone was quite fine with Dellix and Lane hanging out, but Lucas was still just a tick below insufferable in his high and mighty attitude. Even Sophie was nearly fed up with him by the third day of his visit, biting back some rather unladylike language she had learned from Zhalia whenever her brother sneered or commented on how LeBlanche's way of cooking wasn't exactly how a 'proper Casterwill' would have done it.

Poor Harrison and Den caught the brunt of the young man's rudeness. Just bordering the edge of statements that the original Huntik team could justifiably call him out for, Lucas took nearly every opportunity he saw when around the boys to make snide comments about traitors and his team's successes in hunting down the remaining Blood Spirals. Once he learned that they had grown up in an orphanage, instead of eliciting empathy as someone who had also lost both parents, Lucas seemed to view them with even more disgust than before.

Dellix and Lane, on the other hand, were near perfect houseguests. They helped with meals, joined in on any group activities the Huntik team happened to have going on, and were all around funny and enjoyable to have in the Townhouse.

'The Lucas Problem,' as LeBlanche had stiffly called it in a private conversation with Sophie one evening, reached a head by day four.

It was nearly lunchtime, and LeBlanche and Cherit had offered to make a refreshing summer meal for the group. Everyone else was gathered in one of the Townhouse's split reading and media rooms. Dante and Zhalia were at one of the tables, scrolling through various activity reports and mission offers on their Holotome and Technomicon respectively. The younger two-thirds of the Huntik team was playing low volume video games on the massive TV that graced the wall above the fireplace. Dellix and Lane had taken the last remaining seats at opposite ends of the couch, cheering on whoever struck their fancy as they waited for a chance to swap in.

Lucas had decided to grace everyone with his presence half an hour ago, taking up one of the armchairs that tilted away from the television to read one of the Casterwill manuscripts he had dug up from the library shelves. Lok, ever good natured even to wet towels like Sophie's brother, had invited Lucas to join them for a round but had been shot down more harshly than even Zhalia had managed before her betrayal. Dellix and Lane had quietly apologized, and soon it was all forgotten as the next match got underway.

Forgotten, that is, until it was time to pick a new game.

After three hours of _Left 4 Dead_ co-op and verses, the play style was getting a little stale. Sophie opened up the cabinet filled to bursting with games for various consoles– all bought after much pestering from Lok and then Den later on– for them to peruse and was immediately mobbed by the Fears brothers.

" _Smash Bros Brawl_!" Den crowed, snatching the case from the shelf. "This will be great!"

Harrison shoulder checked his elder twin to the side, an impressive feat for such a boney boy. "No way! You know all the exploits!" He picked up the battered Game Cube case for the earlier version of the classic game. " _Smash Bros Melee_!"

Den's eyes narrowed as he straightened from where Harrison had shoved him. " _Brawl._ "

Harrison bristled right back. " _Melee_!"

"Oh dear." Sophie sighed. Lok grinned widely and patted the empty space on the couch beside him. "Here they go again." The Casterwill heiress sat beside her boyfriend and leaned against his side. "You'd think they would have let go of this sort of thing after nearly killing each other."

"Sophie, I gotta tell you." The mirth was evident in Lok's voice as the growled stand off between the twins grew to shouting. "When you actually grow up with a sibling…sometimes you don't ever grow out of this kind of thing."

"Hey." Zhalia didn't even look up from her Technomicon. It was nearly three weeks after the final battle with the Betrayer now, and she had learned to let Den and Harrison settle their differences in whatever way they saw fit. Taking sides or shutting the arguments down just led to miniature replays of the night the two had been separated, and brought up feelings of abandonment and betrayal. Letting the boys duke it out to vent their emotions over the trauma of the previous months ended up being the healthiest option she and Dante had found so far. "Keep it to an unpowered level, guys. I'm not cleaning up another busted window with you two."

The twins grunted in acknowledgement and had the respect to place their argued game cases in the moderate safety of the cupboard…before launching at each other and ending up in a scrabbling knot of limbs and teeth and nails as they viciously wrestled on the rug in front of the fireplace.

Dellix and Lane had become used to the occasional spat between the two brothers during their visit. They sat back with Lok and Sophie on the couch, watching with amusement as the boys used every dirty trick available to them in attempts to gain the upper hand. The noise level increased exponentially, echoing down the halls and filling the room with mangled hybrid sentences of English and Dutch swearing.

All of a sudden, Lucas's voice cut through the din.

" _If you two don't be quiet and act like civilized human beings, that woman is going to take you back to where she found you and bloody leave you there! I'm trying to concentrate!"_

Lucas looked rather smugly satisfied at the abrupt silence his words had brought.

If he had taken the time to glance up from his musty old book he would have seen what a massive mistake he just made.

Den and Harrison had both frozen in place, wide eyes locked together in a look of shock and deeply ingrained fear of losing their home again. Sophie and Lok were both on their feet, and despite Lok holding Sophie back with a hand on her shoulder as she shook with tight lipped rage, the Lambert boy had blue sparks flicking off his clenched fist.

Dante's glare was literally as powerful as fire. No one had noticed, but a tiny flame had burst to life on the table, which he had quickly smothered with his palm before turning his smoldering gaze to the elder Casterwill.

Even Dellix and Lane knew that their commander had crossed a line. The dark skinned swordsman subconsciously moved his hand to the sheath that rested against his knee, feeling the tension in the air thicken to a nearly unbearable level. Lane shifted uneasily as her fingers drifted to the amulet at her neck, ready to call Wildwood Druid at a moment's notice if things seemed out of hand for her larger counterpart.

Zhalia had stopped at the sound of Lucas's words, finger hovering over the final keycode rune to unlock the database entry she needed. If _Dante_ seemed angry, then the woman across from him was at a level well beyond rage. She was at a point that surpassed any outward betrayal of the emotion, face deadpan as she slowly closed the lid of her Technomicon and stood.

Her voice, low and just barely containing the pure feral wrath that only Dante could feel rolling off her in heart crushing pulses, cut through the heavy silence like a razor bladed knife.

"Lucas. Sparing match. Outside, now."

Lucas waved her off, still engrossed in his book. The very idea of fighting Zhalia seemed to bore him. "I'm in the middle of a manuscript. Maybe later."

The Casterwill elder let out a yell of surprise when an unknown assailant grabbed a fistful of his shirt on each shoulder and roughly yanked him over the back of the armchair, manuscript flipping from his hands and sliding across a nearby table. Dante wrenched the younger man around to bring him eye to eye, moving his grip to clench bunches of fabric so tight under his throat that it forced the Casterwill to lift his chin so he could keep breathing normally.

In an icy wave of realization, Lucas had the distinct feeling that he was looking a very angry, very protective, and very deadly lion in the eye.

And all that anger was focused on _him._

"It's rude to turn down a dance from a lady." Dante growled lowly. "But at any rate, she wasn't _asking_ , Lucas."

A white steel sword suddenly appeared at Dante's throat. In a flash Zhalia was at her partner's side, and put herself between the bristling Dellix and Dante. Unafraid, she pushed the back of her hand against the flat of the blade, ready to deflect any ill-advised movement against his neck.

"You had better put this away before I make you eat it, Dellix." Zhalia's soft voice held the fine edge of what was very much not an idle threat. "I've got nothing against you or Lane. I just want a chance to give your little leader a lesson in manners on the sparring field."

"Oh, he'll fight you alright." The locked together foursome looked over when Sophie cut in. "Lucas, you went too far. This match isn't a suggestion, it's an order from me." Her green eyes flashed. "Dellix, Lane. Stand down. Zhalia and Lucas, you both have ten minutes to prepare. Meet in the courtyard then and we'll discuss the rules of the match. Dante's referee."

At the Casterwill leader's command, Dellix stepped back and sheathed his blade, though a little reluctantly. Dante kept his eyes on Lucas for a long, tense second before shoving the young man back and letting go of his shirt.

As the Huntik team gathered itself up to head downstairs, Zhalia took a moment to slip past Lucas, getting very much in his personal space.

"I'm going to mop the floor with you, kid."

Lucas was sure the woman had hissed those words in his ear as she passed. Despite the disturbing finality they had, he straightened his shirt and marched off to retrieve his amulets.

He was a Casterwill. And no one would defeat him on his own ground.


	27. The Lucas Problem, pt 2

_(_ _ **A/N:** P_ _repare for horrible fight scenes! :D Basically Zhalia just wants Lucas to get it through his thick skull that there are some lines you don't cross, especially when its with kids she's looking after and ESPECIALLY if they're kind enough to not comment on your own PTSD issues.)_

* * *

 **The Lucas Problem, pt 2**

The dry air outside seemed perfect for the duel about to begin. Lok fully expected to see a tumbleweed bounce by as Zhalia and Lucas faced off on opposite sides of the courtyard, tense and ready for the match.

Several minutes earlier Sophie had outlined a few basic rules for the mock battle to the gathered Seekers. "First off, no killing each other."

"Why would you even need to say that one?" Lane asked, both seriously curious and also trying to ease a bit of the tension with a small, quirky smile.

"Because I'm one of the ones fighting." Zhalia deadpanned. "And because he crossed a line concerning Den and Harrison."

Lane looked troubled at that.

Sophie cleared her throat, shooting both women a glare. "Right, as I was saying. No killing each other. The fight stays in the courtyard. You can only use three Titans each. The fight ends when someone surrenders or someone passes out. I've put the barriers up so that no one outside the compound can see powers and Titans, but I'd rather us not cause an incident."

Zhalia quickly spoke up. "If I win, Lucas does housework with LeBlanche for a week."

Lucas's lip lifted in a disgusted sneer. "And if _I_ win, you help LeBlanche with the cooking for a week."

They shook hands before Sophie could stop them, knowing all too well the twinkle in the former spy's eye. Zhalia was not above giving the entire house food poisoning just to get back at Lucas if he did manage to beat her, though it would probably be just a happy accident. Sometimes only being able to cook bombs instead of food came in handy.

Dante waved the two Seekers to their sides of the courtyard after the deal was struck. "Set your marks."

As they stepped off, Zhalia tossed a parting remark over her shoulder. "Just so you know, I won't even need to use my Titans to beat you, Casterwill."

Lucas snapped right back at her, "Fine! I won't use them either!" and with that he spun on his heel and took his spot, twenty feet separating the two.

Everyone on the sidelines seemed to lean forward in anticipation as Dante raised his arm. Here were two master Seekers about to fight it out, one for pride and the other for family. If anything it would be an interesting match.

"Begin!"

Zhalia ran straight at Lucas, charging in full force without a moment's hesitation. The Casterwill elder did the same, knowing that if he simply waited for the woman to cast an Overslam he would be dead in the water before he even had time to land a blow.

He cocked an arm back as the gap closed to just a meter, a Kindlestrike forming on his lips…

When Zhalia suddenly dropped flat to the ground and rolled to the side, flinging out a hand as she did.

In the afternoon sun Lucas saw the glint of a handful of grit scraped up from the cobblestones. He flinched back, but the sand hit him square in the face and he sputtered and swore as he was forced to hit the brakes and slide to a stop, scrubbing furiously at his watering eyes.

"That was a dirty tri _AGH!_ "

Zhalia stopped her roll and popped into a crouch, a feral grin of vicious teeth on her face as she watched Lucas get impacted by a high pressure water cannon. He flew head over heels across the courtyard to smack into one of the bushes that spotted the property, the plant stripped bare as a second blast struck for good measure.

"You really didn't learn from last time, huh? _Thoughtspectre!_ "

The air crackled with released energy. Behind the former spy, Garghoul flared his wings to chase away the final threads of the illusion spell and roared in triumph as he fully appeared mere feet from where Zhalia had stood at the beginning of the match.

Lane gasped at the sudden entrance and Dellix rounded on Dante, angrily throwing his arm out to gesture at the Titan on the field. "They agreed no Titans! Call it off!" He stepped forward menacingly but stopped when Lok shifted slightly, putting his shoulder just between the two men.

Dante just crossed his arms. "No, they didn't. And I won't."

Sophie chimed in, eyes sparkling as she realized her teammate's ploy. "Zhalia just said she wouldn't _need_ Titans to beat Lucas. She never said she wouldn't _use_ them."

Den and Harrison shared a fist bump. "That's our _zus!_ "

Across the courtyard Lucas was staggering to his feet, leaves and twigs plastered to his skin. He tossed his head back to flip sodden hair out of his eyes in time to see Zhalia in front of him, casually watching not two feet away. He had just enough of his wits about him to toss his hands up to protect his face in preparation for the coming blow.

That wasn't exactly the point Zhalia was aiming for though.

The squeal Lucas let out could be heard through the entire neighborhood when Zhalia's knee slammed between his legs.

The gathered males all winced in sympathy. Even as he did, Harrison couldn't help but lean towards his brother and mutter a cheeky, " _Ik begon me af te vragen of hij helemaal geen ballen had, of dat hij gewoon een totale lul was._ "

Den wheezed out a laugh as Zhalia seized the doubled over Casterwill by the shoulder and back of his pants. "Nice one, dude." Lucas shrieked as he was hurled across the compound grounds again with the aid of Zhalia's strength increasing Shadowspeed, only to be snatched out of the air at the end of his trajectory.

Lucas's yell cut off as Zhalia slammed him to the ground on his back. He tried to sit up, but before he could even get his elbows under him the woman had pounced on his chest and yanked his shoulders up by the front of his shirt. She pulled an arm back, ready to pummel his face in.

"Apologize to Den and Harrison for what you said!"

The Casterwill blinked remaining droplets of water and mud from his eyes. "You're crazy!"

Zhalia bared her teeth again and clocked him across the face. "Noted! _Now apologize to Den and Harrison!_ "

"YOU'RE _NUTS_!"

"OH, I'LL HIT YOU THERE AGAIN IF YOU DON'T FUCKING APOLOGIZE!" Another punch. With total disregard for his discomfort the former spy took a fistful of Lucas's wet hair and wrenched his head to face the two brothers as she pointed at them. "Those two boys are my little brothers. Blood doesn't have anything to do with it. You get that, asshole? I would _never_ take them back there. They've been through enough shit that you can't even _dream_ about, much less understand!

"After the hell you went through losing your whole fucking family I thought you'd have some sympathy for them, but obviously you don't, so either you get it into your head that you don't fuck around and make your little snide comments about our collectively messed up pasts, or I keep _beating the shit outta you._ "

She jerked his head back to dig her fingers into pressure points that lined the sides of his face. "And you fucking _bet_ I'll be using all the ways I know how to make you hurt for making them think for one _second_ that I would even _consider_ abandoning them."

Lucas's green eyes were wide. His split lips moved the tiniest bit, outlining barely whispered words, and Zhalia jammed her knee against the unprotected flesh of his side. " _Louder!_ "

" _I'm sorry!_ " Lucas yelled, nose gushing blood down his face and into his mouth to stain his teeth. "I'm sorry I said that, I'm sorry I said any of it! I don't know what you went through I didn't mean any harm!" He winced as Zhalia let go and his head thudded onto the wet cobbles. "I…I surrender."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Zhalia growled and finally stood, moving away from the humiliated Casterwill.

Only to be knocked down by Den and Harrison as they charged from the sidelines and tackled her to the ground. A moment later, Garghoul joined the dogpile, taking a single leap with his wings half open to land beside the ragtag family and softly stroked down their backs with his mineral tipped claws. A rough rasp of tumbling riverstones rumbled from his armored chest, showing his personal approval for the new members of his Seeker's family.

" _GAH!_ " Zhalia flailed under the combined assault, squirming around to try and release herself. "What– No! Stop it! Gerroff'a me!" She switched to their native language when all her protests did was make the twins hug her tighter. " _Hou op! Ophouden! Laat me gaan!"_ Zhalia desperately threw a hard won hand out in Dante's direction. " _Dante! Wat is deze muiterij?"_

Dante laughed and shook his head. With his German lessons from Metz, he had a basic understanding of what she was saying in the similar language. "I think that's affection, Zhaal, not mutiny. Come on, guys, don't crush her." The elite Seeker put a gentle hand on Garghoul's cold shoulder, easing the Titan away so that Den and Harrison could clamber up and help their surrogate sister to her feet for a proper hug.

Meanwhile, Lok and Sophie were hovering near Lucas as Dellix and Lane hoisted their dazed commander to a position that could pass for standing.

Sophie sighed when her brother refused to meet her gaze. "Come on. Let's get him inside so we can patch him up." She crossed her arms. "Lucas, I know Zhalia can be a little... _rough_ when it comes to teaching some lessons, but I hope you learned yours."

"Sorry I was acting like a dick." Lucas mumbled past his cut lip. He glanced up at his younger sibling quickly before hanging his head. "I'm not...used to this sort of thing."

Lok shrugged and patted Lane on the shoulder, gesturing that he would be happy to take over supporting the Casterwill elder. "Losing isn't that bad, Lucas. It happens to all of us."

"I didn't mean that." With their help, Lucas began the slow walk back into the Townhouse. "I guess I'm just not used to everything being so...peaceful." His voice trailed off to a quiet murmur. "Can't tell Spirals from Foundlings anymore…."

He didn't see it, but the gathered Seekers, Dante, Zhalia and the Fears brothers included, all shared concerned but knowing glances.

It was clear to them that Lucas could live with wars just fine. Now he just had to learn to live without one.


	28. Best Friends, pt 1 (Titan Bond drabble)

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _I got a request for some Gareon cuddles on my tumblr after begging for prompt ideas. It's been a few weeks, but emyy250, this one's for you! :D_

 _I know it's probably not what you wanted, but I'll still be working on more Titan-Seeker bond fics. So don't give up! XD_

 _Also, apologies for not updating on here for so long. Classes have restricted me to writing shorts, scripts and humor centric bits {oooh, rhyme!} on tumblr. Feel free to check up with me there under the name_ **weirdponytail**

 _This isn't a DxZ drabble this time. Sorry! Y'all gonna have to wait for another one of those for a bit. Hoping to find some mojo for that one soon.)_

* * *

 **Best Friends, pt 1**

She had only been Bonded with him for a few weeks, but already Zhalia was convinced that Gareon would be her best friend for her entire life.

Zhalia had never really _had_ friends, but she was pretty sure Gareon was a friend. Klaus was a friend too, but as he had said when he gave her Gareon's amulet, sometimes human friends couldn't be there all the time, even when they wanted to be.

But Gareon wasn't human. Gareon was a Titan. He lived in a place called Huntik and he could hear her even when he was there and she couldn't see him. She didn't even have to _talk_ , she just felt for him and he was there and she could think whatever she wanted to say.

Klaus had said that as long as she was strong enough, Zhalia could summon Gareon to her side into the real world. But _only_ when she was certain she was alone! Or else both Zhalia and Klaus would be in a lot of trouble with the Organization.

So every night, tucked away into whatever dry alley corner or abandoned building she could find, Zhalia called Gareon out of his amulet to tell him everything that had happened during the day. It was easier to understand him when he was in Zhalia's world, though Klaus had told her that if their Bond was strong and they worked well together that Gareon would eventually be able to mentally speak back in full sentences.

They weren't _quite_ there yet. But a few days ago Gareon had started responding to her with words rather than impressions of his emotions and instinctual responses.

"I found a really great place to get food today." Zhalia smiled at the lizard as he materialized at her feet. She hoisted up a small shopping bag filled to the brim with what appeared to be day old bagels. "Do you want some?"

Gareon cocked his head to the side and tasted the air with his tongue. He wasn't much a fan of baked goods, but he was picking up the scent of something else in the bag as well. _'…Apple.'_

Zhalia laughed and offered her arm down to the Titan. "Hey, you're pretty good! I found it in the trash though. You can still have it if you want." Gareon scuttled up the living ramp without hesitation and settled against his young Seeker's neck with an excited burble. "All yours then! Hold on tight though, Klaus said I should be practicing that new power, so we're going to the roof!"

It took a few tries for the blue light of Hyperstride to stay steady around the girl's legs, and some old fashioned clambering was required for the last few obstacles, but the odd duo was soon on the roof of the piping station Zhalia often stayed at during the fall and winter months. The tiny thief huddled against a warm steam pipe, obscured by the scrapcloth hangings she had put up a few days before, and laid out a few of her hard won prizes on her cardboard mat.

Gareon, for his part, pounced on the partially eaten apple the moment Zhalia put it down. His body, grown slightly from when she first summoned him weeks ago, curled around the fruit as if locked in a vicious battle, and with a triumphant reptilian snarl he sank his blade like claws into the flesh and tore the apple apart. Zhalia giggled as her Titan began lapping up the now bite-sized chunks, looking immensely pleased with himself.

They watched the sun sink below the horizon from their little perch. Zhalia alternated between devouring bagel halves and telling Gareon about the adventure she had acquiring them. The Titan listened intently, coiled up in her lap and content to have the soft spines at the back of his head stroked as the golden beams of sunset shot across their personal haven.

As the last streaks of light disappeared, so did the final dregs of warmth that clung to the rough painted tarpaper roof. The cycle of steam had been diverted for the night, and the gentle wind that whispered past the pipes and cloth barriers carried the promise of a night of damp cold.

Zhalia tied her bag of food to her waist with an old shoelace and scooped Gareon into her arms. Together, under the light of a small Boltflare, they shimmied down the piping and ductwork until they reached one of Zhalia's many hideaways in a rundown, abandoned warehouse not far from the factory.

Tucked away in a corner and surrounded by protective crates of damaged equipment, the duo settled down into the pile of half shredded sleeping bags, stained blankets and ruined clothing. Even as she tugged the most intact sleeping bag over her shoulders, Zhalia still couldn't shake the clinging threads of cold that had already sunk into her skin.

' _Warm!'_

Gareon's sudden outburst startled the scrawny child. She jerked as the Yama-Titan clambered up her front uninvited, then relaxed as he draped his warm body around her neck.

' _Warm?'_

Zhalia smiled and cuddled her body into the nest of blankets before gently urging Gareon down so she could curl herself around him.

' _Warm_.' She whispered back.


	29. First Kiss (Mini Drabble)

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Hey look! Romance! :D_

 _Btw they_ totally _banged after Solomon's Mines. If you glance back at Ch 1, aka the namesake of this entire fic, the post-Solomon's Mines is pretty much what it's alluding to._

 _But yeah this one isn't about that steamier encounter. It's about the morning after, in a way._

 _Cheers mates!)_

* * *

 **First Kiss**

Dante remembered the first time Zhalia kissed him. How could he forget?

It was after Solomon's Mines. The Foundation's combined safehouse and clinic in town was only big enough to hold two in the safehouse rooms and four in the medical area. As the medical area was reserved for sick and wounded only, and Sophie and Cherit refused to leave Lok, everyone else had agreed to room in a hotel until they could leave.

Instead of going in to her own room, Zhalia had quietly followed Dante to his. She had been tense ever since they had gotten back to the city, more snappy and jumpy than usual. But instead of leaving with a gruff explanation of 'taking a walk,' she had stuck close to Dante's side.

To be honest, he was relieved when she slipped into his room after him. They both needed this. They both needed each other.

They had kissed plenty of times that night. But Dante didn't truly count any of them as being their first.

No, their first real kiss came the morning after.

Dante had lain in bed with his eyes closed, refusing to open them for fear that the pillow beside him would be empty and the sheets cold. He had never _needed_ a woman like this before. He had never felt so deeply and utterly fallen, so head over heels with not just a woman's body and mind but he swore he had begun to love Zhalia's broken soul.

He loved her sharp wit and dark humor, her vicious combat forms and particular bond with her Titans. He thought he had everything in life figured out until she appeared in his world, and now she had finally shown him a bit of hers through the heated actions the night before.

And though they had reached a new level of intimacy the previous night…Dante was convinced that somehow, he had scared her away. That Zhalia would curl back in on herself and put up her old barriers, that she wasn't _ready_ to truly love the man she had set out to kill all those months ago.

And then, as he lay in the quiet of the early morning with his childlike anxieties swelling to the surface…he felt a body nuzzle closer to his, a slim hand ghosting over his chest.

He opened his eyes and there she was. Zhalia was still there, soft sheets pooled around her waist, and seemed just as marveling at the previous night as he.

They didn't say anything. They didn't have to. They just smiled.

It wasn't long afterwards that Dante and Zhalia were both dressed and ready to check on Lok so they could plan the next stage of their ongoing mission. Dante already had his hand on the doorknob when, in almost coy shyness, Zhalia tugged on the sleeve of his coat.

When he turned to her, eyebrow raised in silent question, she rose on her toes and kissed him full on the lips. Her hands tangled in his hair as his arms wrapped around her, and if he didn't have the wall at his back to support him Dante would have melted into her touch like an inexperienced schoolboy.

All his fears fled.

She was his. And he was hers.

 _That_ was their first kiss.

* * *

 _( **A/N:** Judging by the adorably nervous look on Dante's face before the almost kiss in episode 20, Zhalia wasn't the only one with butterflies about their relationship. And honestly I kinda love nervous!Dante. In the canon he does seem a bit more in touch with his feelings, which is sooooo refreshing.)_


	30. Brooding (Contact, pt 2)

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _I should be doing my physics homework and my PT exercises but instead you get this angsty bit. If you've never had times of feeling absolutely numb to everything...Christ, mate, what's your secret?)_

* * *

 **Brooding (Contact, pt 2)**

Dante generally knew when Zhalia wanted to be alone.

Even when they had only known each other for a few weeks, it was fairly easy for Dante to see when it was a good idea to leave the woman in peace rather than attempt to carry on conversation. He had seen a fair number of animals in his time traveling the world. The bristled silence of bared teeth and tense tiptoe of a feral wolf wary and on edge in its surroundings was unmistakable when Zhalia was in need of her space.

Cherit could see it most of the time, and would settle for taking long naps nearby to keep an eye on things. Lok could somehow manage to get the woman to put her hackles down at times, something Dante chalked up to the boy being about as exuberant as a puppy and thus rather disarming in his boyish charm, but he was still cautious enough to pick up the signs.

Sophie, on the other hand, took a very long time to learn the somewhat glaring caution lights of approaching Zhalia in these particular situations, especially before the woman's betrayal and eventual redemption. Instead of what was occasionally a cathartic argument, Sophie would be left flabbergasted by a new, sharply snapped comment about herself that, while perhaps all the more scathing for it, was true and would brutally cut the Casterwill to the core. Meanwhile, Zhalia would use the distraction to slink off and find another corner to hole up in, like an animal that's had its den disturbed.

After the defeat of the Organization, Zhalia's need for these times of solitude had lessened somewhat. Dante wordlessly gave her the space she needed when he saw the sharp set to her shoulders and twitchy movements, but the episodes came less and less until the advent of the Blood Spiral War.

It was a good two days of her unusual quiet when word came that Klaus would have to be released from his stone prison. And another day of it when the woman simply disappeared into the still smoldering remains of the Vienna bookshop to sift through the ashes of her childhood. Both these times Dante ached to be beside her, to give his own silent support to her internal struggles. But whenever he had approached she would slip away, only to return hours later to his bed acting as if nothing had ever happened.

It gave him some semblance of peace, knowing she would always return to him. If only she would stay in the first place.

Now everything was over. The Spirals were gone. Wounds old and new had been opened for everyone on the team in the conflict, and although there was a slowly advancing semblance of normalcy to their very abnormal lives again, these wounds were still slow to heal.

And all the while Dante had been waiting, _dreading_ the day that one of the Fears boys would call him asking where Zhalia was or why she wasn't coming out of her room.

There had been small episodes since the end of the conflict, no more than a few hours each, if even that. The former spy wasn't as hostile if approached now, just...silent.

Her only response to attempts at communication would be just the opposite. That is, no response at all.

Truth be told, Dante found these more worrying than the previous times. It was as if she was…brooding. Mulling over past thoughts and actions, the shadow line she walked between good and evil and the masks she had again been forced to wear.

So when Lok leaned into Dante's study and quietly informed him that Den had been texting him about Zhalia shutting herself in her workshop for the last day and a half without eating or speaking, the detective grabbed his coat and headed over to his girlfriend's apartment.

After assuring Den and Harrison that no, nothing was wrong, and sending them over to Lok for some distracting training, Dante unlocked the heavy workshop door with his personal key. Chilled air ghosted over his hands as he pushed his way into the dim room, and it was a few moments as he adjusted to the low light.

The overheads were on at the workbench, highlighting the half completed bits and bobs that his girlfriend had been tinkering with as she slid into silence again. They were barely attempted, really, loose connections and bad solder and half-assed welds. The only spot of lively energy on the table was Gareon, basking under the warmth of the overhead spotlights in his standard form.

The Titan looked up at Dante's entrance, languid and unfazed by the intrusion. He blinked once, long and slow, and gradually turned his head towards the cot tucked into the darkest corner of the shop. He flicked out his tongue in the cot's direction before looking back to the Seeker at the door, waiting for him to understand his motions.

Dante nodded his thanks. Gareon yawned widely, showing off his double rows of wickedly curved tiny teeth, and returned to his nap. Though more independent than any Bonded Titan Dante had met before, the lizard was still affected by Zhalia's mood and general condition. He never did much more than nap and growl quiet complaints at drifting patches of sunlight when she fell into these states, though had shown some initiative at times in directing Dante to comfort his Seeker when he was nearby.

Said Seeker was curled up on the cot her Titan had indicated. Like before, Zhalia's eyes seemed hauntingly dead of all emotion, but when Dante sat beside her he was surprised as she slowly pushed herself up. She hugged her knees to her chest, refusing eye contact as she always did when she was like this.

The simple change sparked a bit of relief and hope in Dante's tight chest.

So why not try something else new?

"Are you okay?"

For a long moment it seemed as if she would ignore him again. Then her shoulders twitched and she shrugged.

It was a start.

"You want to tell me what's going on?" This time she shook her head, dark tendrils of midnight blue swaying around her face. "That's okay. I'm going to stay here, though. If it's alright with you." A nod.

Dante joined the silence for a few brief moments before asking a final, soft question.

"Can I give you a hug?"

"…Yes. Please." Zhalia's voice was barely a whisper, rough and cracked with the dust of disuse over the past two days.

As he wrapped his arms around her, felt her body sink against his in what could only be described as desperate relief, Dante bit his tongue as he remembered one of the first times he had ever gotten the woman he loved to open up to him. The island, the illusions, the battle and the aftermath….

And that night on the beach, awake together as they fought their personal demons with the moon at its zenith, when she cracked open that first true gap in her armor.

When Zhalia had clenched Gareon's amulet in her fist and whispered to Dante just loud enough to be heard over the waves.

" _I guess I'm always afraid I'll be alone again._ "

In the darkness of the quiet workshop, Dante held Zhalia to him even closer.

* * *

 _( **A/N:** Oh hot dayum, this is my 30th chapter. Huh. Well, uh, thanks for hanging in with me! I'm not stoppin' yet, but will probably have to take a few breathers to gather my brain again. This physics stuff is really annoying. #SendSophieCasterwillPlz #CasterwillHomeworkTutoring)_


	31. Pneumonia, pt 1

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Ahh, the sickfic. A staple of fanfiction everywhere._

 _I think it's fairly common in the Huntik fanfiction canon that many think that Zhalia wouldn't let anyone know she was sick. It's just something that I've seen in quite a few fanfics here. And I'll be honest, I believe it. Certain traumas can make you incredibly averse to showing any sort of vulnerability. To add my own color to it, I personally think that it would be hard for Zhalia to actually_ get _sick. Eating dirt and trashcan food builds that good ol' immune system up, take my word for it._

 _But when you get dragged into taking care of two snot nosed kids that track in all sorts of nasty germs from school and you go on long, tropical locale missions, you can't really stay healthy_ all _the time._

 _PS– Yeah, I've never actually had pneumonia, only a brief and mostly annoying and mild bought with bronchitis. So I'm just going with what google says the symptoms are. And fuck it, it'll act like viral but it'll be bacterial, because I don't feel like getting the entire team sick.)_

 **Pneumonia, pt 1**

Zhalia closed the door to her flat as softly as possible. Her flight had been delayed by five hours, but she had let the Fears boys come back to the flat instead of staying at Dante's another night. She peeked into their room as she went past, satisfied that they were asleep.

It had been a hell of a mission chain. The former spy was starting to regret agreeing to take on some higher risk collection jobs around the Amazon Rainforest, centered on the famous raging river. She had been smashed in rapids, literally wrestled a caiman until she could get Kilthane Summoned, and spent five long nights camped at the edge of the water. Her whole body ached and her ribs felt cracked, her Nerveblock spell having worn off while at the airport, and her head felt like she had put it through a damn window.

To put it simply, Zhalia Moon would have felt better if she had jumped out of a plane with a punctured parachute.

The former spy slipped into her room and deposited her backpack next to the door. Unpacking its mostly sodden contents could wait until morning. She shed most of her clothes, tossed on an old pair of shorts and a loose tank top, and threw herself onto the bed with a wince.

' _Back. Sleep now talk later.'_ Zhalia hit send on her message to Dante before pugging her phone in. The room felt unusually cold, and she made a mental note to remind Den and Harrison to ask before messing with the thermostat as she grabbed the edge of her comforter and rolled over.

Curled in her own little piece of warmth and solitude, Zhalia allowed herself to relax and drift off into sleep.

* * *

Den and Harrison were used to Zhalia sleeping in after long missions, especially after getting in so late. They didn't give it a second thought after peeping into her room to see her buried under a wild pile of comforters and pillows, and happily pounced on the couch to play a few rounds of _Left 4 Dead_ co-op with bowls of sugary cereal. It _was_ Saturday after all.

Ten AM came and went. Then eleven. Noon rolled around and there was still no sign of their surrogate sister.

"Hey." Harrison paused the game, ignoring his brother's cry of protest. The elder twin was stuck in the menu at the exact moment a Boomer vomited on him. "You think Zhalia's okay?"

Den looked over at the door to Zhalia's room. To be honest, he was getting a little worried as well. "I mean…I think so. Dante's text said she got in at like…three or something."

The younger twin rubbed his thumb on the side of his controller, still unconvinced. "Yeah, I know, but…should we check on her?"

His question proved unnecessary, because at that moment Zhalia shuffled out of her room looking about as chipper, and about as pale, as the zombies frozen in the game's pause menu.

"Well look who's up!" Den cracked a wide grin and nudged Harrison's bony side, shooting him an obvious ' _see, I told you'_ with his hazel eyes. "Harrison thought you were in a coma, Zee."

"I did not!" Harrison's eyes narrowed into a glare at his elder twin before he looked back at the dark haired woman making her way to the kitchen. He couldn't drop the nagging suspicion that something was wrong with her. She was grabbing whatever was nearby for support as she walked, and stumbled a bit when she coughed into a crooked elbow. "Hey, you okay, _zus?_ You don't look so good."

Zhalia waved him off with a grumbled nonsensical reply and finally made it to the fridge. She fought with the door for a moment, swearing in garbled growls, before yanking it open and letting it smack hard into wall behind it.

"…Den, I really think something's off." Harrison whispered, turning his shoulder to block Zhalia's sight of his face as she proceeded to down an entire bottle of the cold water they chilled for after training in one go. Her talent for lip reading had gotten him in trouble before.

Den glanced up and tucked his head lower. He had to admit, the brief exchange had him doubting his earlier confidence. "Dude, she didn't even snark at you." He dared another quick look, seeing Zhalia glaring at the empty bottle with what appeared to be seething rage.

And then she crumpled to the kitchen floor with a disturbing thud.

"I hate it when you're right!" Den leapt from the couch, forgotten controller skittering across the coffee table and clattering to the ground. Harrison jerked, startled by the sound behind him, and went sheet white when he saw his sister shivering on the tile. "Call Dante!"

* * *

Dante shifted in his usual armchair, Holotome balanced on one hand as he dug around in his pocket for his buzzing cell phone. Lok, seated next to Sophie on the couch as they scrolled through recent reports from the various Casterwill compounds together, grinned slightly and gently took the precious machine off his mentor's hands so it wouldn't become acquainted with the ground.

Dante nodded his thanks and managed to pull the offending phone from his back pocket, taking a glance at the screen to identify the caller before hitting the 'accept' button.

"Hey, Harrison. Are you all coming over fo- Hey, wait, slow down." Both teens on the couch looked up at Dante's sudden change of tone. "Harrison. _Harrison!_ I need you to start from the beginning, okay? Zhalia did _what_?"

Dante was silent as he listened to the boy on the other end of the call. Lok cast a troubled glance at Sophie as he heard faint yelling in the background, just barely audible from the phone in Dante's hand.

Both younger Seekers jumped when their mentor suddenly bolted to his feet, phone trapped between his shoulder and ear as he began violently searching the trench coat draped over the back of his chair. "Okay, Harrison, listen to me. I'll be right there, just put her in the recovery position and get something soft under her head, okay? I'll be there in a few minutes; just keep an eye on her. I'll be there soon." He hung up and tossed the phone on the table, practically turning his coat inside out.

"What's wrong?" Sophie was already up. She had never seen their usually calm and collected leader act so franticly.

"I need the keys!" The offending key ring clattered to the floor as Dante vigorously shook the trench coat upside-down at his words. He snatched them up and pointed to the Casterwill. "Sophie, call the Venice safehouse and tell them to send a doctor here. I'm taking the car. Zhalia passed out and isn't waking up. I'm going to get her and the twins."

Sophie didn't argue, grabbing her Cypherdex from Lok's lap and starting her call as her boyfriend got to his feet. "Do you need me to do anything?"

Dante was already halfway out the door. "See if you can find Cherit! We might need his help with an Energy Bath."

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _This part of the fic was written a good long time ago. It's gone through several adaptions and changes, and it's definitely not complete. I've held off on abandoning it, and I'm picking it back up again for what feels like the eleventh time. Don't expect much for another update with this one tonight, but it'll be worked on I assure you!_

 _~Cheers from North Carolina this time around! Helping Mama Cat move! :D )_


	32. Medea's Island (S1)

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Ah HA! I AM ALIVE! Sorry for the long gap, guys. I just couldn't get a good writing burst going for the longest time. Still can't! But I've had most of this one on the laptop for ages not and I finally decided how to finish it up._

 _From what I understand, the ending of the Medea Island episode was just…so not conclusive. It was like 'hey here's a Zhalia centric thing and instead of wrapping THAT up we finish with…Lok and Sophie? Uh…okay? Also, everyone was totally okay with Zhalia sleeping in the middle of the woods after a traumatic attack on her mind and body by her own fucking Titans uh…How fucking out of character do they want Mr. Dante 'Chivalry' Vale to get?'_

 _Anyways, here's the 2018 version of the post-Medea interaction Dante and Zhalia had that we never got to see. Also, in my way earlier version it was the first time Dante saw Zhalia fixing something/working on machinery as she was probably the one who fixed the boat. Her comment about the engine getting trashed during 'Like Father, Unlike Son' episode is what sparked that off. So yeah. There's that headcanon.)_

* * *

 **Medea's Island (S1, 2018 vers.)**

"Hey, come on." Zhalia blinked, trying to drag herself from the pit of sleep she had crawled into after smashing the obelisk. Dante was shaking her shoulder. "You'll get better sleep on the boat. H'up we go."

A second later the woman found herself scooped up into the Foundation's Finest's arms.

She was very much awake now.

They stared each other down for a long moment before Zhalia, hands tight in Dante's coat, growled, "Guess what I'm about to say, _detective._ "

"Alright, putting you down, _superspy._ " Dante smirked and eased his charge to standing, keeping a firm grip around her shoulders as she stumbled.

Together they started back to the boat, Dante's arm around his teammate's shoulders to keep her walking a straight line in her tired state. "I owe you for breaking that mind control." Zhalia only huffed at the comment. "Want to tell me what happened to make your Titans attack you?"

"The boat shouldn't take more than a few more hours to fix." Dante raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in topic. "…I shouldn't be working on it like this though. Wake me up in an hour."

The detective frowned slightly. "Zhalia, you need to take it easy for the day. Your Titans were forcibly invoked, and you summoned King Basilisk, not to mention the obelisk's powers doing who knows what to your head." He could see his teammate grit her teeth in frustration. "I need you back to full strength so we can get back to the mission. I'd rather not make this an order."

"…Fine." Zhalia shrugged Dante's arm off her shoulders and called a faltering Hyperstride to leap over the side of the beached boat. "Three hours. Wake me up then."

* * *

Dante rolled out of his bunk. Something was off. A quick scan of the tiny cabin confirmed to him that while the teens and Cherit were accounted for, slumbering away in their thin alcoves, Zhalia's bunk was empty.

If it had been any other night, Dante would have shrugged it off. The woman often slept on the bow deck of the boat, complaining about Lok's snoring and the crowded conditions inside the small space. Hell, Dante sometimes joined her, Lok's minor roars getting out of hand on more than a handful of nights.

But after the obelisk and hearing the jeering calls of the enchanted stone while Zhalia fought it, he didn't want to take any chances.

He found her sitting against the rocky outcrop where Cherit had been teaching the illusionary girls. The stone tablet they had found earlier was beside her, but she wasn't looking at it now. Zhalia's eyes were closed, and Dante could see that she was clenching an amulet in her hands.

"Rough night?"

The woman's eyes cracked open at Dante's words. "Can't sleep. Slept most of the day."

The detective didn't wait for an invitation or allowance, and sat beside his teammate. "I heard you moving around earlier. That was a bit more than restless sleep you were having."

Zhalia let out a sharp ' _tch'_ but opened her hands. Gareon's amulet gleamed dully in the moonlight, his gem somewhat dimmed. "…We've been Bonded for nearly sixteen years." She murmured. "It's always been a strong Bond. But what happened today…."

"What exactly did happen today, Zhalia?"

The glare she gave him from the corner of her eye was enough to make him shift awkwardly in the sand. "What happened was that you and those damn kids let your personal shit get in the way of a mission." Zhalia angrily snapped Gareon's amulet back into her fist. "All of you, chasing after stupid fantasies of finding lost fathers and dead family! At least Cherit's illusion had an obtainable goal! I thought I signed on to this team to work with a professional."

Dante couldn't help it. He had bristled at her words, and while he did respect the woman beside him he wasn't going to let a transgression against Metz slide. Even if Zhalia didn't know the truth of the Foundation leader's illness, or Dante's connection to him, the elite Seeker felt justified in nipping this rant in the bud however his emotions saw fit.

"He's not dead yet." Soft sand turned to firm grit as Dante clenched a handful against his palm. "Look, Zhalia, I don't know your situation or your family life but someone I care for is very sick with a very particular illness that normal medicine can't treat.

"From what I was taught, when you care for someone you do everything you can to help them and when I saw a chance for a cure I took it." Zhalia had the decency to look away when the detective turned to stare her down. "It's not _professional_ , but it _is_ what's _right_. I won't let this get in the way of a mission again, but I do expect a bit of human compassion when it comes to the personal losses the members of this team have faced."

"I get it." Zhalia snapped. "Sorry. I'll try not to be such a bitch."

Silence but for the waves on the shore enveloped the beach. Dante again shifted slightly, feeling as though he may have been too harsh while Zhalia cupped Gareon's amulet in her hands and stared at it with an unreadable expression.

The detective broke the silence, wanting to again bridge the gap between them. "…What did the obelisk offer you?" Zhalia turned her dead-eyed gaze to him. "You weren't tempted like we were. So either you weren't offered anything, which I doubt, or you…you really don't have anyone you care enough about to break mission protocol for."

To Dante's surprise, Zhalia let out a cynical bark of a laugh and tossed her head back before she leveled a smirk at him. "Me? Give a shit about someone else?" The amulet in her hand pulsed slightly. "Fine, someone _human_."

The smirk on her face widened to a toothy grin, almost feral in its intensity. "It offered me _power,_ Dante. Power to destroy whoever stood in my way, to never be beaten down to nothing again and to be strong enough that I would be untouchable and respected."

Dante kept his gaze steadily on Zhalia's, willing himself to show no reaction to her words. In truth they worried him, dancing on the gray space that separated the ideals of the Foundation and the ideals of the Organization. He knew that power, in its purest sense, had no affiliation with good and evil.

But how one obtained that power and how they used it…that is what set the two sides apart.

But then Zhalia lifted Gareon's amulet again, white-hot conviction in her eyes. "But I don't need that shit _given_ to me. We fight for it. As long as I have Gareon and Kilthane and Strix and King Basilisk we will fight for what's rightfully ours."

The chill that had settled on Dante's shoulders was replaced with an honest sadness.

Dante had always suspected that Zhalia had, like him, lost her parents early on. And again, like him, she likely had no other family to take her in or care for her.

But that was where their similarities ended and their paths diverged. While Metz had taken Dante on, Zhalia had been left to fend for herself.

Until she Bonded with Gareon. Until she found a family in her Titans.

"…You refused it. And it tried to break you with the only things you care for." Zhalia's wild expression faltered at Dante's soft observation. "They're all you have."

For the first time, Dante saw Zhalia freeze up. She didn't have a witty remark, scathing insult or blunt opinion. That Dante had voiced her inner fear seemed to have broken her for the briefest moments as she felt her outer armor stripped away as it had been while she stood before the obelisk.

It made her angry again. But…she was tired. Zhalia had already fought this demon today and she just didn't have the strength to do it again.

Maybe she could tell him something. Just this once.

"I saw myself in that stupid rock." Zhalia softly admitted. "I don't know how but it was me. But…when I was…" The Foundation's spy paused, unwilling to reveal too much. "Before I was a strong enough Seeker to prove I was worth some real respect." Warm against her palm, Gareon made himself known again by pulsing the energy in his amulet. "I had Gareon and Kilthane and Strix by then. They were all I had. And that damn rock must have tapped into our Bond."

Dante didn't respond. To be honest he was a little scared of breaking whatever spell had compelled his usually isolated teammate to speak.

Feeling self conscious, Zhalia lifted her amulet again. "And now Gareon and the others that were forced to fight…they're confused. And…scared. They couldn't tell which of us was the real thing. And back then, when I was younger…I needed more protecting. So they chose her."

Gareon's consciousness pressed against his Seeker's, mentally pawing at her in a frantic need to show his loyalty. For what felt like the hundredth time since the earlier fight Zhalia let him in, letting her assurances that she trusted him and still wanted him wash over the Titan. The others had needed similar words and promises, but Gareon was still worried about his Seeker.

He knew her past better than any of them. He knew how she felt back then, terrified and small and _alone_. He knew she never wanted to go back to that.

Zhalia closed her hands over Gareon's amulet and tucked her arms between her bent knees and her chest as she held the amulet close to her heart. "Without them…I guess I'm always afraid I'll be alone again."

The quietly whispered words sent a pang of unexpected emotion to Dante's heart, which quickly dropped down to his stomach.

Was…was he getting _butterflies?_

Some part of his mind was screaming at him. He had to do or say _something_. He couldn't leave her alone on this damp beach, not after that. It wouldn't be right. He had to make her happy again, or at least calm her troubles. He would do it for anyone else. That's just who he was, Dante told himself. It wasn't because of the strange new flutter he felt darting around his ribcage.

Unsure if it was the right move, or even wise considering Zhalia's past reactions to him initiating contact, Dante reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You don't have to be alone." The elite Seeker wasn't even thinking as he spoke. "I've got your back too, Zhalia. All you have to do is tell me and I'll be there."

Dante's heart seized up when Zhalia's eyes flicked to his hand at her shoulder, and then slowly drifted up to his face without responding to his words.

He was about to let go and pull away, about to apologize for being so forward when she probably wanted time to think and mend her Bond with her Titans, when her soft voice drifted on the gentle sea breeze to his ears.

"…Thanks."

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Tada! Got kinda convoluted and confused myself at the end with what I originally wanted to do. But meh._

 _I think Dante's the one that first started getting 'feelings' for Zhalia, not the other way around. Zhalia starts to_ respect _Dante and maybe even starts to value his partnership [she refuses to call it friendship at that point because Zhalia Moon doesn't MAKE friends she's a hardcore spy] around 'Absent Heroes,' but Dante actually starts feeling something around Medea's Island. Why? I have no fucking clue. But it's also when he starts to realize that something's wrong and why he starts showing her way more trust and kindness because he's like 'ah fuck me I think I'm actually falling for her maybe if she realizes it she'll explain what's up and won't do the Organization's bidding.' Or some shit._

 _Wow. This was a longer drabble than usual._

 _Oh, btw. Go watch_ The Dragon Prince _on Netflix. It's great. Beyond great, really._

 _ **Also, reviewers…y'all made me blush and giggle I love you all so fucking much.**_ _)_


	33. Pneumonia, pt 2: Dr Velletti

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Hey, I'm still alive. Just had some school and family stuff going. S'all good now, just needed a break._

 _I've had this finished for a while, but I didn't want to post it until I had a little bit of part 3 written so I wouldn't just abandon the thread so to speak. This second part is mostly filler and an introduction for one of my minor OCs, Dr Angie Velletti._

 _Since Thanksgiving is approaching for Murica, I'll have a little time to be out of time, get some fresh air and get some new ideas and whatnot. Travel always helps me write XD So hopefully next week/week after I'll have a little more for you all!_

 _Cheers mates!)_

* * *

 **Pnemonia, pt 2: Dr Velletti**

"Hey. Harrison." Dante glanced at Den, sitting beside him in the front passenger seat as he spoke. The young Seeker was staring dead ahead, refusing to turn around as he addressed his brother. "She's going to be okay, man. This is Zhalia, she's taken a direct laser hit from a freaking demon donkey and walked it off. A little fever isn't going to stop her."

Harrison didn't answer. The younger twin had his knees drawn up to his chest in the back of the car, squeezed into the floorboard area between the mesh on the back of Den's seat and the start of the back cushions. Zhalia was laid out on the backseats, shivering fitfully and occasionally breaking into nearly convulsive coughing fits.

It took another quick look for Dante to realize that Harrison was also shaking. The kid had been trembling like a leaf when Dante had arrived at the apartment, but the detective figured it would have worn off by now.

"Hey." Den tried again. "Bro. It's gonna be okay."

Still refusing to turn back, Den snaked an arm behind him through the gap between the door and the backrest. It took a few moments of blind, restricted searching, but eventually his hand found Harrison's thin shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Zee ain't gonna leave us. Okay?"

"…Okay." Harrison finally whispered back.

* * *

By the time Dante had gently deposited her in the guest bedroom, Zhalia was drifting in and out of consciousness and deliriously mumbling something about caimans. He pressed a hand to her forehead, grimly confirming that his partner's fever was still raging.

A knock at the door alerted him to Sophie's presence. "Doctor Velletti is here." The Casterwill leader's eyes flicked to Zhalia's trembling form as the woman was wracked with a fresh coughing fit and subconsciously rolled over to curl on her side. "Do you want me to stay? Lok took the twins to the townhouse."

Dante stepped back from the bed, struggling with the offer. On one hand he felt that Zhalia would be more comfortable with fewer people around and with the assurance that Den and Harrison were being watched over. But on the other, the detective wanted someone around that he could lean on in case the doctor gave him bad news.

In the end, Zhalia's wellbeing won out, aided by the rant he imagined he would have been subjected to if his girlfriend had learned that Dante had gotten the whole team worried about her. "No. But thank you, Sophie. The boys are probably still shaken up, and they need you and Lok with them more than I do now. Tell Doctor Velletti she can come in." Sophie nodded, and with one final, worried glance at the couple she retreated from the room.

Moments later Doctor Velletti swept in, brisk and sharp as ever with her wire-rimmed glasses halfway down her nose and neatly pressed pinstripe suit pants swishing with the speed of her movement. Instead of being heralded by the clacks of a pair of glossy heels, the suit-clad doctor's footsteps were sensibly padded by a set of well-worn running sneakers. "Afternoon, Dante."

This woman was no stranger to Dante Vale's home. He had always admired the Venice native, and had even taken her on a few platonic nights out to repay her for saving his life on several occasions. Angelica 'Angie' Velletti was almost brutally efficient and practically a miracle worker in her abilities to heal both with and without Seeker magic, and Dante felt a wave of relief that she would be the one in charge of Zhalia's care.

"Thanks for coming so quickly, Angie." Dante pulled the desk chair from across the room and placed it beside the bed so the Foundation doctor could sit beside her patient.

"Don't thank me yet. Symptoms and history?" Angie sat and pulled her Holotome from her bag, pushing her glasses up her nose as she did. Emerald neon sprang to life as she opened the device, reflecting off her burnished steel rimmed lenses.

Dante circled to the opposite side of the bed to remain close to his partner while staying out of the doctor's way. "Zhalia Moon, age is a tentative twenty three to twenty four years. She got in from a six day mission chain in the Amazon at about three in the morning. She didn't say anything was bothering her when we talked before her flight, but I haven't had time to look over her submitted mission report.

"Her adopted brothers say the only thing that tipped them off was that she slept in later than usual. Came out of her room pale and mostly incoherent, downed a bottle of chilled water, then collapsed without warning and was unconscious when I arrived." From his seat on the bed Dante could see his words scrolling into text on the Holotome's lightscreen, dictated directly into the file Angie had started. "High fever. Coughing fits. She was semi conscious by the time we got here, but…"

Dante instinctively ghosted his fingertips across Zhalia's burning shoulder when the woman's face twisted in pain, body curling more tightly as she coughed violently. All the detective wanted to do was hold her and comfort her, take away the hurt. But he couldn't fight this battle for her.

In the back of his mind, the thought of fighting in Zhalia's place did make him twitch the slightest of grins. She hated him treating her like a damsel in distress. She fought her own battles, chivalry be damned.

The grin faltered and disappeared just as quickly. Through the worn material of the loose tank top she had slept in, Dante could see Zhalia's sides heaving as she struggled for breath. Sweat soaked the fabric; her overheated body straining to fight whatever infection had invaded her system.

Even after the near deadly injuries she had been dealt by the Betrayer and his monstrous Titan, Dante had never seen Zhalia in a state like this.

"Dante? Dante." The elite Seeker looked up, startled out of pushing his girlfriend's damp hair away from her forehead by Doctor Velletti's voice. The woman gestured with the Holotome in her hands. "I have a theory but I need to run the scan. Move. You'll contaminate the images if you stay."

"Right, of course." Slipping off the side of the bed, Dante stood behind Angie's chair to watch the data materialize on-screen.

Foundation medical team Holotomes were specially adapted to scan human bodies more so than Titans and amulets. Angie lifted her own device up to be level with Zhalia's back, commanding the scan the begin in sharp Italian. Green light washed over the ailing woman, tracing over her form and sending signals pinging back and forth to the Holotome.

It took two full minutes for the scan to complete. Dante forced his hands into his pockets while they waited, trying to keep from gripping the back of Angie's chair.

Numbers and stats were the first information to be fed back into the Holotome. The second the temperature reading appeared, Doctor Velletti sprang into action.

"She's over forty one C. I'm getting my full kit from the car. We have to cool her down."

Dante's heart stuttered. _Over_ forty one? "What should I do?" He called after Velletti's dark braid disappearing into the hall. His voice was tight and strained, trying desperately to keep from cracking as stress built in his throat.

"See if you can get her to sit up for an IV or turn to face our side of the bed if she can't."

Fighting panic, the usually stoic elite Seeker gently pulled on Zhalia's shoulder, rolling her onto her back. To his surprise she resisted him, letting out a rough groan as she tucked her head lower before finally relenting

"Hey. Hey, Zhaal." Dante leaned forward, kneeling beside the bed. His partner's eyes wandered over his face, half open and glassy. The sight made Dante's heart ache. "Hey. You're okay. Dr Velletti is here. We need you to sit up for a bit."

Zhalia only mumbled in reply, and tried to curl up again. She let out a whine of protest when Dante stopped her.

Knowing the few moments of discomfort would be eased in the long term by the IV, Dante did his best to block out the quiet whimpers the woman let out when he slipped his arm behind her back and sat her up against the pile of pillows at the headboard. To his relief, the new position seemed to ease her breathing slightly.

Angie appeared in the room again, a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She already had a sterile IV kit package in her hand, a pre-drawn syringe in the other. "Good." It was barely a minute for the doctor to find a vein suitable for her use and inject the antipyretic. "This will help bring her fever down in the long run." She pointed to the bowl of water and the washcloth Sophie had left for them. "You can use that to cool her down a little more quickly. But right now I need to take a better look at these scans and get the cause of this taken care of."

The doctor tapped the activation button for the Holotome's lightscreen. She didn't even need to glance at the scans that came up for more than a handful of seconds. "Good news. It's pneumonia. Easy enough to treat but this is a hell of a case."

" _What?_ " Dante couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. "Pneumonia did all this?"

Velletti enlarged the image the Holotome had taken of Zhalia's lungs with a swift flick of her hand. Instead of the usual near blackness of healthy lungs, Zhalia's scans were infused with large patches of encroaching white on both sides. "It's double bacterial by the looks of these results. I take it she was roughing it near the river on her mission?" At Dante's affirmative answer, the doctor nodded. "Going from such a damp area to the sudden dry air of the plane, on such little sleep and the energy she expended while on mission, something like this isn't that surprising. _Especially_ if she was fighting in the water itself."

Dante crouched down, rubbing his face. Just knowing what was happening eased his worry, making way for the heavy exhaustion that came after an adrenaline rush. "What do we do?"

"Like I said, it's fairly simple to treat. I'll start her on the antibiotic drip and keep her loaded up on antipyretics until she wakes up. Then it's just the IV antibiotics until the infection is cleared." Angie looked down and gave the detective a rare smile of encouragement with a firm pat on the shoulder. "She'll be fine, Dante."

The man rocked forward onto his knees, pressing his forehead to Zhalia's shoulder in absolute surrender to his relief. "Thanks, Angie. You're a lifesaver."

"Anytime, Dante."

* * *

 _(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Totally forgot to add in the first one that the reason Harrison is so messed up about the situation is that I headcanoned that Den and Harrison witnessed their mother die of seizures and complications due to an overdose when they were around five. So they have bad memories tied up with seeing someone they love lose consciousness just outta nowhere like that. Sorry for beating up on characters again!_

 _Oh! And to reviewers that I haven't personally responded to, I want you all to know that I read each and every review, and that yes, I do occasionally tear up at them because you guys are so amazingly kind. I hope to keep you guys entertained with these drabbles for a good while longer, even if there are some gaps here and there! Love ya, mates! Cheers!)_


	34. Mini Drabbles, pt 7

_( **A/N:** Just dumping a few mini drabbles I had on tumblr in here. Also, the third one is actually not DxZ but some Lophie for you peoples who like that. I donno, I wanted to try writing Lok for once. Cheers mates! Sorry for all the long gaps between updates and this sorta substandard content! It's finals season and while that doesn't affect me much, the anxiety that comes with it usually leads me back the Inheritance Cycle part of fanfiction and fall into it way to easy. Don't worry! Huntik is still very much on the brain!)_

* * *

 **Everything Has a Reason Behind It**

 **(Early Post-S1, Pre-S2)**

"Here." Sophie passed her teammate a carefully wrapped bag of frozen peas, wincing as the movement jostled her recently dislocated shoulder.

Zhalia cracked open her right eye from where she had thrown herself into one of the many armchairs that littered Sophie's tearoom. Her left eye was already swollen shut, a nasty cut along the outer edge of the orbit crackled with dried blood. "Thanks." As the woman gently held the bag to her face, Sophie couldn't help but chuckle slightly. "Wus'so funny?"

"I'm pretty sure that's the first time you've said thanks to me and actually meant it."

"Oops. Concussion must have let it slip out. That's what I get for sticking up for strangers." Both laughed at that, Sophie taking a seat on the couch as Zhalia let her head tip back again and her eye drift closed. "Nah though. If I'm going to try out this whole good guy honesty thing, I might as well tell you that even when we first met, I didn't think you were half bad for a Seeker getting her first taste of the real world. Lok was green as hell but he was handling pretty well too. Kid had promise."

Sophie's eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. You two had all the stuff there, just needed some rough and tumble time, ya know?"

The revelation was...well, it was a little confusing for the young Casterwill. Zhalia's sharp tongue and hostility had been an issue for her right from the second they met. Even Lok, sweet puppy eyed Lok, hadn't been safe from her scathing critiques.

"But then…why did you act like that? Say all those things?"

Zhalia sighed, a small smirk edging at the corner of her lips. "Well, you kinda jumped on the hate train pretty quick yourself, Soph. I knew you came from money but figured you'd be a little less snotty considering your family history. You've gotten way better, don't get me wrong, but you sure as hell made it easy for me to snap at you."

Sophie bit her tongue, at this point so conditioned to give her own sharp retort at Zhalia's blunt observations on her faults, and waited. There was something else, something that Zhalia was struggling to bring herself to say.

"…And I guess I kinda knew Klaus would order the termination of everyone on Dante's team eventually." The woman opened her good eye again and turned her gaze to the ceiling. "I figured if I could drive you and Lok away, then…I wouldn't have to kill any kids."

A cold rock dropped into Sophie's stomach. Sometimes she forgot just what Zhalia had been trained to do…as well as what it had taken for her to break away from that training and the man who had taught her.

The growing silence seemed to unnerve the currently rather battered penitent spy and assassin in the Casterwill's tearoom, because a minute into it Zhalia let out an embarrassed chuckle and shook her head.

"Damn. I must really be concussed."

* * *

 **Anniversary**

 **(Post-S2)**

Dante sighed, rifling through the mail as he trudged back to the house.

Zhalia was on mission. It had been nearly two weeks, and Dante was starting to get that quiet heaviness in his chest that always came with missing his partner. It was a stealth-only mission, and due to its nature she wasn't able to contact him on the Holotome until her job was done.

He paused at the door. There was a letter for him…addressed with Zhalia's smooth handwriting on a beaten sky blue greeting card envelope.

Dante wasted no time when he got inside, haphazardly tossing the rest of the mail onto the counter before throwing himself into his favorite armchair. The heavily creased fold on the envelope flap separated easily as he slid a fingernail across the top.

It really was a greeting card. Bright letters on the front loudly proclaimed " _HAPPY ANNIVERSARY._ "

But below those original words were new ones penned by Zhalia's hand.

" _HAPPY ANNIVERSARY of your stupid and heroic dead-not dead stunt._ "

Dante smiled. Opened the card.

" _Dear favorite, sexy idiot,_

 _Sorry I couldn't be there to celebrate. Cherit wanted to bake you a cake. I told him that we shouldn't reinforce getting yourself killed as a positive behavior._

 _Still. Happy anniversary of also saving the world from total destruction while also finding out a way to come back alive._

 _Miss you lots, Red._

 _Love, Blue._ "

Dante's smile grew wider. She had used their old callsigns from her undercover days. And it gave him an idea.

Moments later he had a familiar blue journal open in his lap, and scrawled a response to his life partner on the next blank page.

" _Happy anniversary of full on french kissing in front of your surrogate father after not being dead and saving the world."_

Dante didn't have to wait long for a reply.

" _Damn it, Red, if I start laughing it'll give away my position!"_

* * *

 **Free Climbing**

 **(aka First Time for Everything)**

 **(Mid-S2)**

There was something Lok just loved about climbing.

Maybe it was because he never had many opportunities to climb in Ireland. His home was dominated by gentle emerald hills, peat and cobblestone cottages, and dotted with ancient ruins and castles that were strictly off limits to rambunctious children itching to climb them.

But now, traveling the world searching for his father and new Titans, he was free to finally stretch his limbs and test his skill.

The young Seeker tightened his shoulders and fit his hand into another hold, granite rough against his fingers. The tiny indents, pricks and grooves that bit into the skin of his palms and fingertips were more comforting to him than painful, assuring him that the textured surface would prevent him from slipping.

Confident in the next foothold he had spotted, Lok used the new leverage from the crack he had wedged his hand into and heaved himself up another few feet. A little thrill of giddy happiness shot up his spine as he marveled in the tension and release that came with throwing his body around with nothing but empty space at his back.

"Don't move so fast!" Lok beamed down over his shoulder, eyes sparkling with ill contained glee as he watched Sophie insert a new cam into the rock face and clip her rope in. Even further down, a good ten meters at least, Den gave the Casterwill a bit more slack so she could move up. "Not all of us are bloody mountain goats you know!"

"But I'm going to beat you to the top!" Lok called back. "I _never_ get to beat you at anything! No way I'm letting this chance go!" With only three more meters left for him to climb and five for Sophie to both clip in and climb as well, it was pretty clear that Lok was going to be the winner of this little game.

Up above, Cherit flew in smug circles as he lazily spun corkscrews through the air. "Now, now, you two. It isn't a race." He quietly chuckled to himself. "But considering that neither of you have wings, you both are doing a great job!"

"Show off!" Sophie yelled, taking a half hearted swipe at the Titan as Cherit exploited his natural abilities to dive down to the ground and then back up the side of the cliff faster than the roped Casterwill had even managed to put on her harness earlier.

Down below, Den snickered. "Speaking of show offs, Sophie, you've got another one up there with you."

"What!" Sophie's voice hitched up an octave in surprise and admittedly some outrage as she turned her gaze upwards again. Lok waved down to her, cheeks hurting from the size of his smile, from his perch on the top of the cliff. "How did– you must have used Hyperstride! You cheated!"

The young man gasped in mock hurt and clutched his chest. "Sophie! How could you even suggest that! Of course I didn't cheat! I just had my route planned out before I started!" He high fived Cherit before offering to his now quietly swearing girlfriend, "You know, I could just Bubblelift you up here now that I won."

Sophie's eyes narrowed. "Don't you _dare._ I'm going to get up there the old fashioned way, like we said we would."

It was fifteen minutes before Sophie accepted Lok's hand and finally set foot on the top of the cliff. The sun was grazing the top of the horizon, setting the landscape ablaze with golden light.

"Ya know…" Lok grinned widely, arms comfortably behind his head with all the cheeky confidence that came with just being Lok Lambert as Sophie unhitched her ropes and secured them to a stone. "There's something I've always wanted to do after I finally beat you at something."

Sophie raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at her lips. "Oh really?" If he was going to kiss her…. "And what would that be, Mister Hotshot?"

"This!" The teen moved forward…

And instead of sweeping his girlfriend into a romantic kiss, bounded up to the edge of the cliff and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"I AM LOK ÉIRIMIÚIL LAMBERT!" He bellowed at the top his lungs. "I JUST WON A COMPETITION AGAINST MY TALENTED, AMAZING GIRLFRIEND! _HEAR ME_ _ **ROAAARR!**_ _"_

Sophie couldn't help but laugh at the display. She joined her boyfriend at the edge of the cliff and gave him a congratulatory kiss on the cheek, giggling at the blush that sprang up. "I guess it had to happen at least once. 'Atta boy, killer."

Lok beamed at her, eyes sparkling with the lights of the setting sun. "A day to live on in history."

He was _just_ about to kiss her when a loud, attention getting cough sounded from below. The pair peered over the edge to be met by the sight of a rather annoyed Den tapping his foot impatiently.

"Yeah, great! If you two are done being all ooey-gooey, could you maybe, I donno, Bubblelift me up there?" He called up, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the darkening woods behind him. "The park ranger said something about bears at night, remember?"

And the mission began again.

* * *

 _( **A/N:** I really couldn't figure out how to end that last one and it shows. XD oh well. Cheers mates!)_


	35. Psychological

_(_ _ **N/A:**_ _The headcanon of Zhalia having a reputation under a codename that's only whispered through the Organization has always appealed to me. Dante's sure as hell got a rep {cue long list of times someone has yelled 'DANTE VALE!1!'}, and despite a lot of it apparently being true, it's also really likely that many Suits and whatnot have told stories that have been exaggerated to make themselves look better for escaping alive/only lightly bruised after meeting him. I figured it would be similar for Zhalia, except her codename would likely be linked with killings and darker aspects of spy and assassin life. She's not proud of it, but she can use it to her advantage in many situations._

 _And a quick note for the ending. I don't support torture or abuse, of any kind. Zhalia's got skeletons in her closet and she's not happy about them, and much of the fear that this baddie shows is mostly due to previously mentioned exaggerations on what she has done/can do. She doesn't like hurting people. Twisting the brains up, though? She's good at it, and when it comes to helping the Foundation she'll hop right on that train._

 _Blagh, words. Intentions. Can't get my own damn brain untwisted at the moment. Sorry!_

 _Btw, this and the Skillset drabbles are influenced by a scene in the NCIS episode Honor Code, where Gibbs casually turns a blind eye to and lowkey orders Ziva to 'get information' from a person who was on a team that had kidnapped and was torturing the father of a child. McGee's reaction/confusion is gold, as is Ziva's cold determination and Gibbs being Gibbs. I highly recommend the episode.)_

* * *

 **Psychological**

 **(Post S1, Pre S2)**

Montehue growled loudly and slammed the door leading out of the interrogation viewing area, the echo ricocheting down the hallway of Foundation HQ.

Nearly forty eight hours of almost nonstop interview and interrogation, and this Organization scumbag was still as cool and collected as a one percenter lounging on his yacht with a martini in hand. If Tersly hadn't been there to call his teammate out of the room, Montehue was pretty sure he would have either put his fist through the wall or the smug bastard's face.

"I thought I heard that booming voice of yours." The museum buff turned Seeker looked up, his own grin already spreading across his face. Dante raised a laden drink holder in greeting, his other hand occupied by one of New York's classic blue coffee cups.

"What did that poor door ever do to you?" Zhalia was right beside her partner, playful smirk at her lips and a cup of her own in hand. "You nearly took out the whole floor with that one, Monty."

The massive man barked a laugh, already reaching for the cup on the holder marked with a bold 'M.' "It's not the door, lass, just the rat bastard behind it. What the blazes are you two doin' here?"

"Zhalia just finished the last of her Foundation paperwork." Dante tilted his head in his girlfriend's direction. At his words Zhalia glanced at the ground, unused to the attention and awkwardly sheepish, but Dante was all smiles at the announcement. "She's officially an Agent of the Huntik Foundation."

"Congratulations!" Montehue took a large swig of tea before clapping the woman on the shoulder. "Just make sure you keep your rank away from mine, eh? Dante and I already got dibs for fighting it out for the top spot."

Zhalia grinned a feral smile of sharp teeth and deadly promise. "Don't flatter yourself, Monty. You should watch your ass because you're looking at number three on the rankings board. And I barely had to lift a finger." She waved off his worried expression. Rank had never really meant much to her, but seeing Montehue squirm for a moment or two was worth it. "But that's not why we're here. Word around the building is that you and Tersly bagged yourselves a Organization agent."

"And that he's giving you the cold shoulder." Dante finished. "Figured we could come lend a hand."

At the mention of his uncooperative prisoner Montehue's face soured. "He's been tight lipped since we got here. Mum's his only word."

Dante raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like someone skipped his public speaking classes. Want to try some good cop, bad cop? It'd be like that time we nabbed that Suit in Kiev."

If it were any other time, Montehue would have turned down the offer. It was his and Tersly's catch, and to have to share the credit with Dante would be a sore bruise to his ego. But forty eight hours was a _long_ time to be stuck talking and ranting to a mute wall of a man in a tiny room. Any help now would be accepted and very much appreciated.

"Sound's like a plan." Without further ado the massive Scotsman held the door to the viewing room open, ushering in his two new cohorts in crime.

* * *

"Oh! Uh, hey Dante! Oh, and uh…h-hey Zhalia." Tersly nearly jumped out of his seat, stuttering and stammering in his usual nervous demeanor as the headphones linking him to the recording setup and monitor bank nearly yanked him off his feet. "L-Long time no see!"

Zhalia relieved her partner of the drink holder and put it on the empty table beside Tersly's console before passing a warm paper cup to the scrawny man. "Hey Jitters. We come bearing gifts. Chamomile for you, no sugar, no cream."

"Y-you remembered! Th-thanks!" It was honestly surprising that a guy that shook so much could drink tea without throwing it around the room, but somehow he managed to take a healthy sip. It seemed to sooth him. "I guess Dante and Montehue are going to try a one two punch with this guy?"

Dante's cocky grin reappeared. "Well, I don't know if Monty will have to go in after I'm done with him, but–"

"Hold that thought." Zhalia interrupted, drawing curious looks. She was peering through the one way mirror, finger lingering on her lip. "I think I know him. What's his name?"

Montehue's eyebrows shot up. "Only thing we got was 'Bythway' before he clammed up."

At the sound of the agent's name, the former spy let out a sharp laugh and barred her teeth in the most frightening smile Montehue and Tersly had ever laid eyes on. "You know what? Twenty bucks says I can get this guy to start mouthing off in less than ten minutes. Fifty says I can break him in less than half an hour."

"…Zhaal, you can't hurt him." Dante warned. The seriousness in his voice had Tersly paling as he remembered that Zhalia was not always one of their own. "It's against Foundation codes."

"Who said I was going to hurt him?"

When the Foundation's top Seeker didn't have a reply, Montehue stepped up. With a burly arm roughly around his rival's shoulders he let out a barrel chested laugh and shook his head. "Come on, Dante! I take your bet, lass. I've been at this bastard for two days straight. He's all yours!"

"Fan _tastic!_ It's been ages since I got to interrogate someone." Zhalia popped up from where she was leaning against the table and reached over Tersly's head to grab a roll of clear packing tape that was balanced on a filing cabinet. "After I go in, slam the door to the outside."

Through the one way window, Dante, Montehue and Tersly could see Bythway look up as Zhalia opened the door to the interior room and stepped in. Just before closing it though, the woman paused, and leaned back out. "Oh, and I'm going to need a motorcycle battery, some jumper cables, a five gallon bucket of icewater, a gallon of bleach, two and a half pounds of salt, a bottle of hot sauce, three feet of garden hose, and a plastic knife."

"You got it, babe." Dante didn't miss a beat, shooting her a thumbs up.

"You're the best." And the door clicked shut behind her.

"…She…was she serious about that stuff?" Montehue rumbled quietly to his rival.

Dante shook his head and went to slam the outer door as asked. When he returned he explained, "No. She's not going to need it."

* * *

"Stevie! Long, long, _long_ time no see." Zhalia smiled brightly, catching the eye of Bythway through the mirror as she slunk in behind him. "Still using that little moniker of yours, huh? Wouldn't be surprised if that's what got you caught."

Bythway only glowered from under lowered brows, following the newcomer's movements via the mirror and refusing to turn to look at her. There were only a handful of reasons for her to be here, none of them boding well for him.

"What was that stupid jingle you used?" Zhalia ripped off four pieces of the tape and systematically went to each corner of the room, placing a strip over the lens of each of the surveillance cameras as she gripped the roll of tape in her teeth. " _By-the-way, Bythway's got the best wares in sight, come to him if you hang in the night_? Damn! It just sounds worse and worse every time I remember it."

"Wh-what's she doing?" Tersly cycled through the cameras, checking that each still had unrestricted picture. "That didn't block us out, why–"

"Bythway doesn't know that though." Dante tipped his head towards the one way. "Just keep watching. She's got this handled."

"Speaking of names, Stevie Wonderboy, it's rude not to say hello after so many years." With a sudden yank Zhalia seized the back of the Organization goon's chair and wrenched it around. Bythway jerked back, suddenly finding himself blocked in by the woman's arms on either side of his head and gripping the back of the chair as she leaned in close over him.

"I'm _sure_ you remember _my_ name, _Stevie_." That manic, predatory smile was back, words snarled through clenched teeth as their foreheads nearly touched, nose-to-nose. "Come on. Say 'hi.'"

A barely visible tremor ran down Bythway's spine. He managed to keep the shake out of his voice, but only just, as he opened his mouth to speak for the first time in two days.

"…What the hell are you doing in Foundling HQ, _Azrael_?"

Montehue threw his hands up. Forty eight hours! He had spent forty eight, gods be damned, _bloody_ hours in there with the bastard and got nary a peep out of him! But then Zhalia just waltzes in and has him talking in less than four whole minutes?! " _How in the bloody –_ "

Dante shushed him sharply, but couldn't help but add a quiet, "You owe someone twenty dollars."

Monty swore under his breath and reached for his wallet.

Apparently happy with Bythway's answer, Zhalia straightened with a laugh and reverted back to the casual ease she had entered the room with. "Oh, this and that. Figures you didn't hear, being crammed away in the trash like the slimy cockroach you are. Klaus is dead. I'm a Foundling now." She sat in the chair opposite the man. "I work for the Foundation for real. No more mole stuff or infiltration. Just straight into the interrogation unit. You see, Stevie, I'm their top interrogator."

At those words Bythway paled.

"They won't let you lay a finger on me." The man straightened in his chair and flicked his disheveled hair out of his eyes, jaw set. "The Foundation doesn't allow torture. We both know that. What do you think would happen if your new little friends saw what you did, huh?" His upper lip trembled, rat hair mustache dotted with sweat.

The former spy waved dismissively. "Oh, come on, Stevie. What do you think that little grocery list was for? My lunch? I'm not the type to 'lay a finger' on someone. Far too messy. I need tools for what I'm going to do to you." She rolled her eyes. "And really. As if a pro like me would leave marks for them to see.

"If you had a lick of sense in your thick skull, you would have noticed me taping over the cameras. Everyone else in the room went to get me my supplies, so no one has seen our little chat. Plus, after so long stuck with you, that big guy from before? Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if he took a long lunch break just so we could have some quality time together catching up. Just me and you, Stevie."

Bythway gnashed his teeth and spat at the woman across from him. It didn't do much beyond dribble down his chin. "You wouldn't." Despite the conviction in his words, he had gone from notably paler to sheet-fucking-white.

"You know I can, I have, and I _will_." Another flash of that feral smile, all teeth and promised malice. Bythway swallowed hard, Adams apple bobbing in ill-concealed distress.

"I'll give you a deal, though." Zhalia pulled a nail file from her pocket and leaned back in her chair, kicking her feet up. "If you decide to come clean and promise you'll tell the big guy all you know, _before_ he comes back with my equipment, I'll let _him_ take over. I'll be waiting, though, right outside that door, ready to step in if you hold anything back. And I'll know if you do." She began examining her nails with deadly calm. "You have only about five minutes left, I'd wager. It's your choice."

Heavy, oppressive silence lasted in the room for three minutes and forty six seconds.

And then one of Tersly's mics picked up a shaky whisper. "Jesus fucking Christ. You win."

"Holy shit!" Both Dante and Montehue whipped their gazes to Tersly at the usually demure man's foul language. "Guys, she got him!"

Inside the room, Zhalia took her feet off the table. Across from her Bythway was a sweating mess with his head hung low. He dragged his gaze up when the former spy moved, locking his eyes with hers. "You fucking win. I'm not going up against the Angel of Death. No fucking way. I'll tell them what they want. You just stay away the hell from me."

"Always a pleasure doing business, Stevie." Zhalia smiled once more, this time a sickly sweet, innocent expression. It was spoiled as she walked by the agent; roughly seizing his hair and yanking his head back as she passed in a violent mockery of patting a good boy's head. "Always a pleasure."

* * *

"That's seventy dollars. Cough it up." Zhalia smirked as she held out her hand.

Montehue grumbled as he counted out the cash. "Why do I get the feeling you cheated?"

"Probably my mental Powers scores on the Foundation site you just looked up on your phone." The woman beamed as she double-checked her winnings. Dante glanced over to where Monty's phone lay abandoned on the table, chuckling to himself when he saw that yes, the burly man had been looking into Zhalia's file. "But that was all me in there. No tricks, no Powers."

Tersly paused his audio recording, already having two minutes of Bythway's quiet sobbing on tape, and pulled his headphones down around his neck as he turned. "What did you d-do to him, then?"

"Absolutely nothing!" Zhalia stuffed the money into her pocket. "I'll let you in on a little poorly kept secret. Just like Dante's a bit of a legend in the Organization, I've got my own little reputation. And just like Dante's, every time a story about what he or I did is told people embellish it and it just grows every time." She shrugged. "Mine's just attached to a codename. Only a few people can match my face to it, though. We were just lucky that Bythway was a fence for the Organization before becoming an agent, and he knew me at the start.

"Since that was the case, all I had to do was build off that. Mix my legend's overblown reputation with the name, tell him I killed Klaus, and then toss in a few lies and a grocery list of common household items..."

"And you've got the perfect cocktail for psychological warfare." Dante shook his head, a smile lingering on his lips. She didn't even have to lift a finger. "You're one hell of a lady, Zhalia Moon."

"Aw! Thanks, babe." Zhalia smirked at her partner, a blush blooming on her cheeks as he slung an arm around her shoulders. "I guess our work here is done. Unless you actually want me to hang around and subtly threaten him with literal eye bleach again?"

Montehue spared a quick glance at the window. Bythway looked like he was about to puke, shaking and shuddering with rough, choked out sobs. The Scot couldn't tell if he was crying out of relief that Zhalia had left the room without hurting him, or out of fear that she would be waiting right outside for a chance to do so. The man was utterly broken.

"Nah, lass. I think we can handle it from here."

* * *

Dante and Zhalia both blinked in the bright sun as they exited Foundation Headquarters. The New York streets were bustling per usual, and the two slipped into the stream of people heading in the direction of their hotel.

"So…" Dante couldn't help the slight smirk that twitched the edge of his lip. "Hot sauce?"

Zhalia scoffed, shaking her head with a slightly embarrassed grin. "Oh, cut me some slack. I didn't exactly have a lot of time to prep for that one. Besides, the more vague the thing is, the more they wonder what the hell you could do with it." The woman's eyes scanned the masses passing them, casually marking potential threats in her mind out of sheer habit.

Dante laughed, and didn't press the joke any further. They walked in comfortable silence for a few more minutes until cutting into a back alleyway. The route to their hotel was a little more complex this way, but being out of sight allowed them to use Powers as a shortcut.

Before Dante could call a Hyperstride though, Zhalia caught his sleeve. "Hey, uh…wait a second."

"You alright?" The elite Seeker was proud to say that he could read his partner rather easily, something that very few people could say. The slight tilt of her shoulders, one hunched higher up than the other, the grip she had on her opposite arm and the nervous bite to her lip all told him that she was…worried. Maybe even a little afraid. "What's wrong?"

"Look, when you said I couldn't hurt that guy back there…" Zhalia rubbed the back of her neck, glancing away from him. "I get why you did. I'm not exactly a golden girl for good guy stuff or any of that with my history. Especially with all the things I've done." She didn't pull away when Dante gently reached out and caught her hand with his, a simple gesture that provided a level of comfort she was beginning to savor in her interactions with him. "But I want you to know that…I never _liked_ doing that stuff to people who didn't deserve it." She sighed. "I didn't like doing it to a lot of them that did, either. And I always tried to find another way, like what I did today."

If she hadn't seen the movement out of the corner of her eye, Zhalia would have jumped in surprise when Dante suddenly pulled her into a hug. Even so, she froze up slightly before relaxing, resting her head on his chest as he spoke.

"I know, Zhaal. And I'm sorry I assumed you were going to hurt him." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, feeling the tension ease away from her limbs. "I don't care what happened before. You're a good person. Anyone can see that."

"…Thanks, Dante."

"Anytime, babe."

* * *

 _(_ _ **N/A:**_ _My ability to write endings is just…ugh, so nonexistent. That attempted fluff was just awful but I really can't figure out a way to end it besides with Monty saying yeah they can leave and that feels…not right._

 _I wanted to establish clearly/firmly that Zhalia, while she has likely used nerve manipulation and other techniques to get information from people {also hinted at in the Skillset drabbles}, never participated in much beyond that and her experiences on how to deal pain to others is something she's a mix of sickened by but proud of. Much of what she knows how to do is from having it inflicted on herself or via reading all the crazy books in Klaus's shop. She knows the harm that comes from torture, knows it's never truly reliable, and prefers to use manipulation and psychological stuff because it tends to scare people when it's open to the imagination._

 _I donno, I'm trying to words here and it's not working._

 _On the other hand, not having to put a finger on someone to scare them senseless, especially when it helps the Foundation...Zhalia_ does _have a bit of fun with that. Bythway's a skeeze. She's been wanting to spook him shitless for years. He probably sold her bad material, fed her bad info or gave her way less than he should have for an artifact or something._

 _I'm finished with my exams so I might have more time to think up ideas. Also, shoutout to Cor for giving me the name for Steve Bythway. It was originally Steve Bytheway {punnz} but I altered it only slightly. Cheers, mates!)_


	36. Vacation, pt 1 (Florida Tie-In)

_(_ _ **A/N:**_ _Heyaaa! So sorry to be gone for so long. I lost my writing bug and caught the video game one, so writing and mojo have been low lately._

 _Despite not having the mojo to put out the good quality stuff I prefer to post, after coming back and checking the reviews I found so many amazing people and really heartwarming stuff that I told myself "Self! You gotta put at least_ something _out for these people!" and forced myself to sit down and hammer something out._

 _I do apologize again for the long break, and again for the poor quality of this little short. Everyone's OoC, and I tossed in Ket and Cor from the Florida drabbles to spice it up a bit plotwise. Those two were sent out to find some Rhesus Titan Hybrids that had managed to get out of the Woven Zone, and invited the Huntik Team to take some downtime while they hunted down and gathered the scamps up. Go check out my Florida fic to learn more about them and their little powers._

 _And_ yes _, fun fact, Florida has monkeys! Because some dumbass released them from a movie set!_

 _Anyway, have some hammock!Zhalia because I love my hammock. Cheers, mates!)_

* * *

 **Vacation, pt 1**

 **(Florida Tie-In)**

To be totally honest, the day couldn't get much better.

Crisp spring water lapped gently at the edge of the camp as the river flowed by, the movement generating soft breezes. The trees provided shade and trapped the cool air under the branches, while beams of warm sunlight shot through in patches to chase away any chill.

And the Huntik team had the pleasure of calling the spot theirs for a few peaceful days of rest and relaxation. Plus a few friends, of course.

"Owch!" Dante looked up from his book at the exclamation and couldn't help the grin that edged his lips. Ket and Cor, both members of the Flordia Foundation team, pushed through the low brush hiding the campsite. A small, gangly-limbed form was hanging off Ket's back, and it currently had a fistful of her hair as an anchor point. "Next time, _you_ carry him!"

Cor quickly picked up the closest object he could find and gestured to it. "But I'm carrying the…the camp chairs."

His counterpart let out a grumbled retort, only to be cut off by a long-fingered hand jamming itself into her mouth and a high pitched, chittering warble as the baby Rhesus monkey in her care decided to investigate her teeth.

"Check out the new Team Florida member!" Lok laughed at the sight, pointing it out to Sophie with one hand while he kept a firm grip on his guitar with the other. The young Seeker's gentle melodies had become as natural a sound in the camp as the rippling of the river beside them, and Den and Harrison both looked up when the music stopped.

Sophie let out a barely repressed squeal when she realized what her boyfriend was pointing at. "Oh my goodness! It's so cute!" In a flash she was beside the frustrated _Mucu_ seer, her fingers itching to reach out to the baby creature. "Can…I mean, would it be alright…?"

Ket shrugged as best she could as the childlike Rhesus clambered under her arm to hang off her chest, nuzzling its face into her neck. The change in position revealed the hybrid's royal purple harness and green gem on it's back. "If Bo wants to, sure." Cor also nodded his consent, already setting his pilfered chair down and settling in. "He's a little nervous. Running off from the Zone and being separated can really freak these guys out."

Off to the side, Den leaned over and put his head together with his brother. Both had their feet dangling in the river's water, cooling down from setting up the tents. "Hey…do you think that means there's regular Titans here too?" Despite it being their first day of a mini vacation after several missions in the States, the boy was already itching for something to do.

Harrison tilted his head back to get a look at the baby monkey hybrid. Bo, as Ket had called it, was tentatively taking an apple slice from Sophie while the Casterwill listened to the _Mucu_ woman describing the Abo-itilo Titan's habits.

"I donno." The younger twin turned back and squinted across the river. He could see movement, but couldn't make the source out through the sunlight bouncing off the water. A cheeky smirk was growing on his face. "We could always find out though."

The boys made it to the edge of camp, scampering off like excited puppies, before Dante's voice cut them off. "Hey, slow down you two. This isn't like Venice. You need to take someone with you."

With everyone else already occupied, Den and Harrison turned to the last member of the Foundation team.

Zhalia was comfortable. That was the best way to put it. The gentle breeze from the river occasionally rocked her hammock, and the dappled sunlight scattered across her legs gave her just the right amount of warmth while the shade across her face was just right to keep her cool. Gareon was curled up on her stomach and purring contentedly, a soothing rumble through her fingertips. She was already on the edge of dozing when two voices cut through the peaceful atmosphere.

" _Zeeeee! Come look for Titans with us!_ "

The woman took a deep breath and cracked open one eye. Yep. The twins were there, peering into her hammock with a mix of puppy dog eyes and bored, _come onnnnnn_ expressions.

Her answer was short.

"Nope."

Harrison groaned and slumped his shoulders dramatically. "Why nooot?"

Den followed suit, but instead of a slump of defeat he put his fists on his hips. "Yeah, why not?"

Zhalia let the breath out with a sigh that she used to think was only reserved for parents of small children as she closed her eye again and settled back once more. "I'm on vacation."

"But you're a Seeker! Show some Seeker spirit!" Den prodded the tense edge of the hammock, setting it swinging slightly. "Where's that fire, Zee?"

"I left it at the post-mission briefing." Zhalia muttered. The swaying was nice. "Because you know what?"

Harrison's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I am on… _vacation._ "

The two boys groaned in frustration and slumped off. Zhalia let a small smile flit across her lips before she gave Gareon a scratch behind his dorsal spines and laid her forearm over her eyes.

 _Ahhhh._ Vacation. Finally.

As Lok's strumming started up again and Sophie's gentle cooing at Bo became one with the sounds of the world again, Zhalia quite happily resigned herself to a very lazy afternoon.

Until Cor, the _Ocoto_ shaman of Hearing, let out a sudden stifled laugh and leaned over to his _Mucu_ counterpart. Just loud enough for Zhalia to hear he said a single, foreboding sentence, laughter in his voice.

"Sounds like those two have a _really_ bad idea."

Zhalia's eyes flared open just in time for Gareon to let out a startled yowl and leap away. It was the last warning she got before hands seized the side of her hammock and yanked upwards, effectively dumping her on the ground.

"Let's go look for Titans!"

The response the twins got was a snarled string of curses, a Touchram that flung them head over heels into the cold spring water of the river, and a single shouted answer:

"Fine! Start with the ones in the water! _I'm on bloody vacation!_ "

* * *

 _( **A/N:** And in a few days, I'll be on vacation too! I finish my college course on Wednesday so I hope I'll have more time to rewatch some Huntik, get the bug again, and do some proper writing! _

_Love you lot! Thanks so much for reading my stuff! Cheers, mate!)_


End file.
